


The Greatest View

by SunsetOrchids



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Complete, Erotica, F/M, Fucking, Makeup Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 57
Words: 126,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetOrchids/pseuds/SunsetOrchids
Summary: War brings people closer. Edin's no exception, hooking up with her sergeant prior to active deployment. Both go into it under the guise it will not last and stays between them. Complications arise, testing not only their boundaries but sanity. Switching between the present and past Edin pieces their paths together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Terminology: Pretty much all my stories use the same slang, 'ye' or 'yah'. 'Yah' is exactly as it looks and (angrily) addresses someone, 'ye' sounds like 'yeh' and is basically 'yes' but I think it sounds sexier, just wanted to clarify before it's assumed they're going to Ye Olde Tavern. Neither shows up a ton but wanted to get that out of the way, I'll shut up now, gonna go back to my hermit cave, thanks for reading, I really appreciate it, bye!

XX Thursday, March 13th, 2059

Sometimes my nights fill with raw visions, dreams of people and places my body can’t forget. Infrequent in the beginning, they come more recently now. The longer I’m stuck in this transition the more it seems I need to be reminded. At first I ignored these moments, assumed they’d dissipate with time. Now I catch myself forgetting I’m here, reliving that time instead.

It makes me want to die.

This morning I dreamt the prison was broken into. I could hear cell doors crashing open, authoritative shouts to get on the ground, inmates screaming for help, telling the intruders where I was. I could see myself pacing in the control room, terrified this would be it. In reality it wasn’t and I wake before it continues. Face down on my mattress I lay still for several moments, reminding myself I’ll never return there. I can’t. It’s gone.

Unmoved, I strain to catch any noise in my quiet apartment. It’s always quiet, but this morning my ears catch something, a slight hinge in the air. Beyond that muted sirens roll from the street below. Still half coherent I push over amongst the sheets and blink several times, taking in the soft morning glow painting my home a pale neon pink. A shadow looms past my large bookshelf, something I don’t think I’d see if I wasn’t so paranoid. I am trapped.

Yet in that moment I know my advantage and shut my eyes, breath even and slow. Minutes tick by, my home quiet once more. It could be my imagination struggling to find correlations between mundane signs but I know it’s not. I know I’ve been compromised. Living here, I asked for it.

Finally they move, a soft shush on the carpet. My heart picks up, curious, excited, nervous. A bit scared. I want to peek but can’t; the game is best played in a certain order. It’s ruined when my alarm goes off, artificial bells chiming somewhere in bed with me. I take care to ignore the right of my bed and inhale deeply, rolling to one side, blindly rooting about until my phone’s in one hand and silenced. My thumb fumbles on the screen, typing out a message to my boss: I won’t be in today.

Finished, I let it slide back to the sheets and slowly rouse, sitting up and looking over the city’s skyline past my bed, idly pulling fingers through my hair. It’s looking to be a clear day; a shame I’ll spend it inside. My phone buzzes again and I glance over. My boss says to take it easy. It’s not much but it buys me some time.

I get up, stretching by the paneled windows, then head to the washroom, leaving an old shirt and panties in my wake. This is the game, the imitation of peace and ease. I don’t even shut the door all the way behind me. It never feels like it but illusion is key.

When I turn on the faucet I listen hard. Movement comes from the bedroom, swift, cautious. There’s a low huff, something falling to the bed, my phone most likely. They know I know. I smile nervously, look at myself in the mirror and tell myself everything will be fine.

No sooner have I even wet my face when their presence arrives at the door. They’re fuming. I brace myself and take a step back, waiting. I’d rather get this over with than live forever in fear. For a second it’s quiet once more.

The door is kicked, shuddering across the decorative rug and bumping against the wall. In it’s place he stands, a small handgun coming to rest on me. I freeze, as does he. Neither of us moves, electing to stare at one another instead. We’re both stubborn now. Yielding isn’t an option. My heart’s beating so fast, terrified of his presence. He’s come, I think, to kill me. Finally.

“Wasting water,” he speaks, eyes never leaving me. The tap will have to wait. I don’t take the bait.

“You’re a long way from home,” I observe, each bone in my body rigid. “Must’ve been difficult—”

“Shut up,” he gruffly orders, inching into the washroom. I allow it, watching every movement. “Just—shut up.”

So I become silent. Water dribbles from the faucet, echoing over tile. I want to raise my hands, tell him it’s safe here, but can’t. He scares me, always has. He’s been worse. This is tame compared to what it could’ve been. I’m surprised he was demur enough to break in so quietly.

“I have neighbors,” I softly whisper, a calm coming with the potential promise of death. “They’ll hear you.”

It doesn’t convince him of anything. He sidles to the sink, sight unwavering, ever so slightly jutting his strong chin at the shower behind me. “Nice place. They pay you well?”

I nod, coldness spreading through my chest. “Ye.”

He smirks unkindly. It looks good on him. “You don’t even care, do you? That you betrayed your own?”

He’s trying hard to goad me, to give him a reason to pull the trigger. He forgets my patience. Forgets I don’t respond to verbal threats. He’s the one who taught me.

“You’re still on that?” I innocently ask, ignorance my only weapon. “Maks, it’s been years. War’s over.”

“For you,” he spits back, chest angrily rising beneath a dark jacket. “ _I_ still live it every day, _we’re_ still picking up the pieces and you’re here in some fucking penthouse. Fucking A, Edin, fucking A…”

I don’t react much. His anger’s warranted. I stay where I am, way too aware of his gun. “You’re here to take me down then?” It’s a relief, honestly. “I expected you sooner.”

His gaze averts from mine, swallowing a lump in his throat. He didn’t come here for that, though I know that’s what he likely told himself. I seize my chance, shifting backward, shoulders rolling to ease their tension.

“Go ahead,” I encourage, twisting his guilt into something usable. “If you run fast enough you’ll get out before cops are called.”

He glowers, despising when I play him for an idiot. “Stop. I…I just…”

Lowering his weapon he first slams off the faucet then leans a hip against the sink, holstering the firearm. He’s thinking, likely wondering what the hell he’s here for, too.

“I needed to ask you,” he finally mumbles, warring with his words. “I—you really sold us out? For this?”

He asks as if he’s never been bribed, as if he’s never made a decision to keep his own life. I don’t need to explain myself. His arrogance doesn’t leave room for understanding.

“Must not have done a good job if you’re still alive,” I comment, voice hazy. Turning, I pad toward the shower. “Hm.”

“Edin,” he warns, tone low. “Give me a straight answer. Now.”

A gun is one thing but this is the dangerous part, the play. The guessing. I don’t answer. He already knew it before he arrived. It’s why I’m still breathing, I think.

He lunges before I get the shower going, reeling me back by an elbow. I land against him with a thud, frozen for a moment while he wraps his other arm about my waist. Avoiding his gaze I briefly struggle, already aware it won’t work. He holds tight, fingers digging in around my elbow until I whimper.

“This isn’t a game,” he informs me, his other hand squeezing my ass as he studies me up close. “Tell me, Edin. Why’d you do it. Hm?”

He’s interrogating me. I’ve watched him do it before, know what he wants. But I’ve seen him do all sorts of things. I don’t know if he wants to snap my neck or bring his gun back in rotation. I play my calm card, look down at the tile. His grip tightens considerably, shoving off that calm. I have to think fast, anxiously trying to pull from him.

“I had to,” I gasp, sucking in my lower lip in an effort to keep from whining.

“Had to?” he echoes, calmly watching my struggle. The hand holding my ass brings me flush with his thigh. “They threaten you? Put a gun to your head? What?”

I want to die again. He’s forcing dreams back into reality, making me relive everything. My arm blisters in pain; I’m sure it’ll bruise. My game’s over. I can’t focus like this, not when he’s so close, holding me so tight.

“I don’t remember,” I quickly respond, bottling up what I can.

“You don’t remember,” he confirms, doubtful. “Right.”

“I don’t,” I insist, breath quickening. He’s pulled bones out of their sockets before, I’ve seen it. He says this isn’t the game but I can’t tell. It’s been too long. “I—”

I’m screaming. How he’s managed to twist my arm I don’t know but it hurts like hell. Leaning into him I squirm to gain purchase. He’s right; these past years have softened me, weakened me. All this money and luxury and it’s done nothing good.

“Maks! Maks, stop!”

“Tell me why you did it,” he repeats, baring down. “Not hard, Edin.”

I’m being reckless. I want him to let go but what did I expect? He’s never been one to back down. He’ll squeeze until he gets what he wants. My veins throb; I surrender first. There’s no other way to beat him, not in a panic, and it’s the only way I know to get him to stop.

“Maks, you’re hurting me,” I gasp, compliantly collapsing against him. His muscles seize like he doesn’t realize his own strength and he lets up, my arm free for the time being. Instead he clamps me to him, breath in my hair as his hands work me over. He’s gentler, but firm. Always firm. He’ll do anything to get what he wants.

“Tell me, Edin.” His hiss ghosts over my ear. “Come on, baby. What’d they do, hm?”

He wants to believe I didn’t do anything willingly. He wants to believe I’m innocent. If I give him that he’ll let go and soothe me with whatever he thinks will work.

But I don’t regret my choices. I volunteered what little secrets I had when prompted, as anyone would do in the same scenario. His knuckles knead into my back, searching for the truth. Telling him isn’t in my best interest. Everything I spent the past couple years hiding, bottling up and keeping to myself will come to a head. If he doesn’t snap my neck it’ll be taken care of elsewhere, and soon. He doesn’t care about consequences; he doesn’t know what will happen, though I’m sure he understands. We will all face consequences one way or another.

Out in the bedroom a little jingle fills the background. He stills, as do I.

“Expecting a call?”

I shake my head. Of course I do. He doesn’t need to know. He’s too clever though, ducking back and pulling my chin until I’m facing him, looking for answers. The phone is ignored until it’s silenced. He’s expecting I’ll cry, counting on it. I would if I could.

His face softens, lids lowering. In a swift moment he pulls my lips to his in a velvet kiss. In that moment I am subdued, suckered. When he dips back he’s still thoughtful, still watching my every move.

“Did you forget about me?” he lightly asks, searching my pained face. “Hm? It easier to pretend nothing ever happened? Mm, you’re shaking, Edin. Are you scared? You know what that does to me.”

Fake words, fake dominance, fake everything. He’s trying to get in my head. It’s working, too. If I’m quiet I can cut him off, make him forget about his demands. I hate how my body reacts, remembers why I tolerate his behavior.

“I…” I squeak, trailing off. Several of his fingers brush over my labia, my anticipation rising. I squirm against his thigh. If I let him do this he’ll think there’s still a connection. I’d be lying if there wasn’t.

“Come on, baby,” he cajoles, easily parting puffy flesh, fingers dipping in. When I crane my neck his lips graze beneath my ear, breath warm. “Talk to me. I traveled all this way for you and you know what happens when I don’t get my way. Is that what you want, baby?”

Baby. No one’s called me that in my entire life besides him. He uses it loosely, semi-affectionately, a way to disarm me. I tell myself I’m better than that and not something he can claim. I’m no one’s but the state. The wrong state.

“Don’t call me that,” I whine, too aware of his probing. He rumbles faintly, entertained by my refusal. His fingers plunge deeper, thumb rubbing over a sensitive nub. My heart thuds heavily, wanting more. I hate that he resorts to such tactics, but I don’t want him to stop, either. I have cried too many nights over losing him.

“You’re wet,” he comments in mock delight, fingers pulling out. I moan; I know where they’re going. Tasting me he hums in approval, then places them against my mouth. Slick coats my lips. I want to be disgusted but…this is Maks. Nothing goes unturned by him. At his behest I suck on them, cheeks going concave. His teeth show in a knowing grin.

“Good girl.”

This is humiliating yet I do as he asks. I want his touch, need him to finish. Need to prove I didn’t mean to betray him, his world. Spitting out his fingers I find I’m panting, ill-advised thoughts getting the upper hand. I lean into his shoulder, eyes shut. He’ll get what he wants. He always does.

“I can’t tell you,” I relent, unable to look at him. “I won’t.”

He’s not so nice when his fingers return, working harder. It catches me off guard; he knows I remember now, knows I know exactly what occurred. Something will get me to crack, he already knows this. He just hasn’t found the right weapon.

“Have you ever fucked on the glass?” he wonders, voice low and in my ear. “Tits pressed up on it, fucking for the whole city to see? No? Baby, that’s the first thing I thought of. If you’re good I’ll make you come there. Come on. Tell me.”

He’s intoxicating, something I can’t get out of my head once it takes root. From personal experience I’ve learned there’s one thing that can force him to see reason. Getting the gun out of his hand was part of the process. Compliance isn’t enough. I go limp in his arms, give him complete control. He’s not stupid and understands what I’m doing but doesn’t stop it. He relishes the moment instead, hoisting and pulling me up by the hips, swerving from the washroom toward the windows with me on one hip.

We make it in record time to the edge of my home, each glass pane stretching from either wall, floor to ceiling. When he slams me against them I gasp; the surface is frigid, my back shivering. I watch him fumble with his belt, anticipation returning. His cock jumps from grey work pants, thick like I remember. Looking up while he strokes himself, he offers an obnoxious grin.

“I thought you wanted my tits against the glass,” I taunt, wiping that grin away and receiving an annoyed look instead. Grasping both my hips he hoists me to a higher position, my skin the only thing really keeping me sticking. My legs wrap around his waist, arms awkwardly pressed upon the panes. It doesn’t take him long to properly position himself, cock impatiently prodding at my slit. He’s hard, ready to fuck. He plunges in and buries himself, covering my gasp with a kiss, unafraid to nip here and there, closing the gap between us by snaking his arms around my ribs.

Slowly, he pumps his hips several times. His cock slides through my tight lips, tip seeking out my inner depths. I groan into his mouth, head cradled on the glass. He takes his thrusts slowly at first, hips rolling while his mouth assaults mine, then begins wandering it’s way across my skin. His teeth mark my shoulder, growling when I keen. He’s covering me, pressed hard against me as he keeps going, rhythm picking up, becoming sloppier. Sweat breaks out upon my skin, that euphoria I forever chase throbbing in my center and spreading. He fills me completely, perfectly.

“Tell me,” he begs, forehead knocking into mine, nose in my hair, breath heavy. “Tell me, baby. Tell me it was real.”

I can’t stop myself from nodding, humming in response. Of course it was. I would’ve never messed with him otherwise, not even for pay. He’s crazy.

“It was?” he asks, needing reassurance. Seeking air I tilt my head, trying to keep out of his range but his kisses follow. “You’re not lying?”

Never. I can’t focus when he’s still pounding into me. I try nodding, panting harder. His teeth tug at an earlobe, setting my spine tingling. My legs wrap tighter around him, bringing him as close as possible. I’ve missed this so much. Missed…him. That’s something I can’t admit.

“Tell me the truth, baby,” he pleads in my ear, tone doubtful. He isn’t sure of himself. He needs to hear it from me. It’s why he’s come. “I can handle it. I just need to know for sure.”

He expects the game, gets it, knows we both get a thrill out of it. But I can’t right now. My insides are on the edge, the blackness of my lids sparkling with tension. He pushes harder, pumping faster, hands grabbing and bruising flesh. I can’t take it, core spasming when I come. It clenches tighter on his cock and he groans, shuddering, each thrust suddenly erratic. Everything about him becomes primal, raw. He slams into me, groaning as his balls tighten, coming too soon. I don’t move, holding him within, enjoying his heaving weight boring down on me.

While my heart calms itself I roll my head forward, idly catching my breath. My home is quiet save for our panting, city sirens far off in our peripheral. I don’t dare look backward; it’d give me vertigo, plus I don’t want to know if the folks living adjacent to me several blocks over could witness this.

“The truth,” I softly breathe into his collar, dazedly nodding to my own words. “The truth is…I was their way inside.”

His body’s frozen, fingers digging into my skin. He turns his head, cheek pressed to mine, exhaling deeply.

“Stop fucking lying,” he exclaims, exasperated. “It wasn’t you. It can’t be.”

Guilt stabs my heart while his arms tighten around me. In my mind I can see them, the one who set everything into motion. It’s a secret I’m willing to take to my grave. I don’t say anything else. Instead I let him hug me, let him process this lack of information. He doesn’t need to know. No one does.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please love Rey, she needs love. And space.

XX Friday, December 11th, 2054, Istanbul, Turkey

 

“He’s a psychopath,” Rey complains, words bitter. Hunched over at our lunch table she is the epitome of annoyance, glowering across the cafeteria. Her food is untouched though she’s on her third diet coke for the day. “I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore. I mean, it’d be one thing if he ignored me but this? This is straight up harassment. Edin, you’re lucky you don’t have a brother.”

My mouth zips into a flat line and I busy myself with red glop from the kitchen. I’ve heard siblings can be like that. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’re going to train with him.” Cautious, I glance over my shoulder to where she’s glaring. “Right? They _are_ leaving next week, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” comes her grating reply, slumping in her chair. Rey’s never been what one might call a positive person but it’s gotten worse since the draft, mood intensifying when it became clear she’d have to serve even remotely near her brother. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t her sergeant—our sergeant.

“I mean, who throws a grenade?” she continues, huffing. “Shouldn’t he be in prison for that shit?”

“He _did_ say to hustle,” I reason, finding it hard to believe I’m defending him. I did happen to be involved in that exercise too but he’d told us to run faster. Besides, I’m pretty sure it was a rock. Pretty sure, I think. Before Rey can rebuke however I add, “Where are they headed?”

“Bhutan,” she grumbles, lip raised in disgust. “Mum says he can’t say why. Something top secret apparently. I hope he’s top secret murdered.”

I blanche—she’ll cry when he’s gone—and take a bite. “That’s far. Well, at least once we’re finished we won’t be that far. Who knows? Maybe by then it’ll be over and we won’t even do much.”

Rey offers a withering look. “Right. I’m sure we’ll be so lucky. Anyway, what’re you up to tonight? Want to head off base? Larin says there’s a new club downtown. Could be fun.”

I’m supposed to chat with my mom tonight but that sounds better. It’ll take my mind off our impending exams. I shrug.

“Sure, why not? Meet at your dorm at…say, eight?”

Shifting from her chair Rey’s mood brightens considerably. “Great. Bring something hot, alright? I’m not hanging with you if you show up in jeans.”

“Alright, alright.” I shove her off with a rude gesture, grinning as I finish up.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Privates looking to have fun...will find it. It can't be helped.

XX December 11th, 2054, Istanbul

We head off base half past eight and take the train downtown. Rey isn’t completely impressed by my little black dress but it’s all I brought from home and at least it’s not jeans. She looks stunning in a ruby toned dress. If it’d been several years ago she might’ve curled her once famous amber tresses but those days are gone, replaced with a short bob. I’ve thought about chopping mine off before it’s mandatory but there’s still time.

We keep our dresses hidden beneath heavy coats, braving Istanbul’s raw winter for some fun. Downtown is beautiful at night, if a bit sterile. We joke with one another, tottering several blocks and beneath incredibly bright lights, each sidewalk lined with razor wire and blockades sprinkled here and there. We smile at vendors hawking merchandise and whistling our way, pleased the military hasn’t stripped our femininity.

Rey’s friend is right. When we reach the club we don’t wait in line long, diving in to pitch black and strobe lights the second we leave our coats at checking. It’s located in an older building full of small rooms, each one packed with bodies. Bass-heavy music pumps through the air. It’s intimidating until we find the bar, Rey bravely wading through revelers and grabbing us drinks. After that it’s just another party, like the ones back home.

We dance a bit, alcohol flowing until we’re loosened up. It quickly becomes clear Rey’s here to find a guy so I assist, watching her glass and keeping close while she blushes and grins her way through several men. Everyone’s well-dressed here, I’ve noticed. It always impresses me, I guess, since we’ve always in sweats or shorts at home. She’s just as impressed, gushing to each one about how great they look. If there was a prize for embarrassing oneself at the club she’d be in the running. I wouldn’t be far behind, absently ignoring men around me and keeping my lush eyes on her just in case something happens. Because with her, something usually does. She has a mouth and it’s gotten us into quite a few…situations before, hence my vigilance.

We go on in this vein for several hours, wandering the building and rotating through random faces we’ll probably never see again. The DJ’s resorted to house mixes, their beats thudding so loud it reverberates through my chest. It feels good letting loose, free from the base and upcoming exams, blissfully ignorant of our own impending transfers. Hopefully Rey and I are stationed somewhere closer to home. If not, hopefully we at least stick in the same unit.

Eventually my bladder acts up, urging me to find the lady’s room. Rey’s engaged with some dude in a sweaty dress shirt; she’ll be fine for a few minutes. I duck out, weaving my way through crammed hallways, bumping shoulders everywhere. The lady’s room is an odyssey in itself; I wait in line for perhaps ten minutes then hold off disgust as some girl retches in the stall next to me. At the sink I take a look at myself in the mirror for the first time in hours, grinning at smudged makeup and flushed skin. This is always when one finds out they don’t look nearly as badass as they feel under the influence. At least my hair still looks good, beachy waves of dark beige held together by an obscene amount of product. I fix my makeup hunched over the sink, only getting so far before another girl complains about me hogging the mirror.

Back in the halls I roam, leisurely navigating to Rey’s last known location. She’s moved on, now in a room the size of a small house and talking with some girl on a balcony overlooking several dozen dancers below. The girl looks pissed so I make my way for them, sure I already know what happened.

“All I’m saying is you’d be better off downstairs,” the girl’s shouting, lecturing Rey, who isn’t really listening, leaning on the railing and smirking instead. She shakes her head, a palm rising.

“Whatever, whatever. He was talking to me. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“You were grinding on him!” the other party accuses, her cheeks redder than her neck and too tight top. “I was right there, I _saw_ you.”

“You saw nothing—there was nothing. Who are you even talking about?”

“Him!” She’s pointing behind her but I’ve just arrived, her thumb jabbed at me. Grinning, I slip around and between them.

“Oh, love your top girl,” I comment, flattery always my go-to. “It looks so good.”

She blinks, bloodshot eyes distracted momentarily from Rey’s offensiveness. I swoop in for the kill, eyeing first Rey’s contempt and then the girl’s upset aura. “Hey, listen; we’re just here to have fun. Totally sorry about the misunderstanding but I promise it won’t happen again. Right?”

Eyes rolling Rey crosses her arms, chest nearly popping out of her dress. She should apologize but I know that snotty look. “Hey, whatever. When he comes back to me it’s not like I can stop him.”

Definitely not the right thing to say. Upset girl lunges past me, claws out. Unafraid of such silliness Rey engages her, drawing to full height and blocking her first swipe. She can’t shut up now, asking the girl if she wants to go so I, thinking that’s a bad idea, grab the girl by her top and reel her back. She fights me off, swearing up a storm and if I wasn’t involved it’d be hilarious to watch. Instead, here I am, drunkenly putting myself between the two and hollering at both to stop. It’s top quality club drama, clearly. Neither girl takes me seriously anyway and when the upset girl throws a lopsided punch my hair does get messed up, a fatal error on her part.

I want to throw myself at her but my skirt’s too short and I’m too self conscious since my martini magic’s worn off. I do the next best thing, which is egging Rey on since she has no qualms about getting dirty. Taunting this girl she’s just yanking off her earrings when she practically disappears into the strobe lights, there one minute and the next dragged down the stairs.

I only know this because I can hear her hollering over the music. Upset girl and I blink at each other, confused, and then she mumbles an apology, embarrassed. She’s not the only one. I fix my hair best I can, making my way for the stairs. At least…at least it wasn’t that bad? But now I have to find Rey. She’s probably upset.

Luckily she’s in the hall close by, back against the wall and glaring at her feet. In front of her is presumably who dragged her off, currently in the process of reprimanding her, too. I keep my distance, watching her brother bitch at her. Why’s he here? He’s intimidating on base and that translates out here too, his hulking figure several centimeters taller than even her in her heels. I guess even sergeants enjoy blowing off steam but why can’t he do it elsewhere? This…this place is no longer cool. We need a new club. If I can convince her we’ll find somewhere else for the rest of the night. First her brother needs to go.

Liquid courage motivates me. I swerve through several conversations and a couple making out, inserting myself at Rey’s side. Her brother pauses mid sentence and glares.

“Having a private conversation here,” he curtly informs me. I smirk and link arms with Rey, emboldening her.

“Not a private conversation kind of place,” I holler back, jabbing my index finger his way. “Yo, this isn’t work. Get off her case; it’s not like anything happened.”

“Excuse me?” His eye are big, incredulous. His attention’s off Rey. “Go get something to drink. I’m not finished.”

“I get it,” Rey groans, slumping against me and pouting. “Leave me alone, god. I won’t fuck with anyone else, I swear.”

“No, you need to go home,” he orders, chin jutting for the exit. “You’ve had too much.”

“You can’t tell me what do,” she shrieks. Both of us cringe; she’s not finished, lurching and pointing at her chest. “I! I am a grown ass adult, Maks. So get the fuck off my back and—and— _you_ go home!”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he remarks. I’m sure she knows it but this is beyond fixing. Needing an out for aggression Rey pushes off me, right at him. What she intends on accomplishing I don’t know but I scrabble for her, just barely grabbing her waist, yanking her back before she does something she can’t take back.

“You always do this!” she shouts, centimeters from him, hair a mess as she bobs up and down. “What did I do to you, huh? Leave me alone! Just—fucking A, just let me live! Jesus!”

He starts to say something but his eyes flit to me. Arms crossing he steps back, shrugging carelessly. Between her continuing threats he tells me to take her home. “Take the first train back. She’s a mess.”

“I’m _not_ a mess!”

“Dude, chill,” I tell her, arms tight about her waist. “Let’s just get out of here. He’s being a douche and this place sucks anyway. Come on.”

“I hope I never see you again once you leave,” Rey shouts at him, ignoring me. Thankfully her legs cooperate when I start inching away. “I hope you get some assignment in the middle of hell—or would that be too kush for you? You like a challenge, don’t you?”

I thought I was going a great job holding her but I guess not. Rey’s pulled from me like a bandage, still hurling insults while her brother pushes through the crowd. He moves fast, leaving me abandoned at the wall. I watch him disappear, speechless. I should go after them. Right? My mind wanders for a bit before springing into addled action, ignoring curious stares and pushing after them. It occurs to me seconds before I’m out the exit we had coats so I round back, picking up both after what takes the coat guy forever to find. Our purses are in there, too—I busily work on my own and strap both purses over my shoulders, trotting out to the dark streets with her puffy jacket under the other arm.

Istanbul is much different at night than the day, even more on my own and drunk…and in heels. I wander down the street we came from, calling for Rey but never get a response and never spot her. I call her phone and it rings, but it’s in her purse. Incensed, I pick up the pace, breathless by the time I climb the steps to the train station. I don’t doubt her brother’s still with her but she can’t stand him. I’ve never understood why. Sure, he’s a little intense, or overprotective, I guess. Isn’t that how brothers act? And, if I’m being honest he wasn’t wrong, necessarily.

They’re not at the station. I take the train back to base, slumped in the back of a car and watching the city’s industrial lights pass by in the darkness. When I check my phone it occurs to me the night’s still young. It’s only a little after midnight. I’m amped up on adrenaline, could probably go a couple more hours. Maybe all night. Maybe I’ll find Maks and bitch him out for ruining our night. Really, yeah, Rey was belligerent but so was that other girl. The more I think about it the more I’m convinced it really wasn’t her fault at all.

After my hike back from the station I lope to the dorms, dizzily navigating to my room. In there I relinquish my coat and slip shorts under my dress, wash abused feet in the sink and then slip out in much more comfortable sandals. Rey’s stuff is slung over a shoulder. Her room’s only two halls from mine and I get there fast, knocking hard on the door.

“Rey? Rey, I got your shit. You in there?”

There’s no light from beneath the door. It swings open a second later regardless, her brother sliding out. All my indignation disappears and I shuffle backward, hands clutching on Rey’s stuff.

“This what she’s always like?” he asks, stepping forward. Rey’s belongings are snapped out of my grip. He tosses them inside to her desk before I can protest. Mouth popping open I go from staring at him to the door and back again.

“Uh…” Well, yes, but I’m not ratting her out. I’m her friend, not a cop. I glance down at my feet. “No, not usually.”

His eyes narrow, dark amber eyes on fire. Rey’s door is shut. “Straight answer, Edin. I know you’re her friend but this bullshit’s gotta stop. I won’t be around to fucking cover for her soon. Does she do this a lot or is just because?”

My heart’s thudding anxiously. He never calls me by my name. To him I’ve always been Bashir. I barely thought he even knew it.

I hang my head. “Sometimes.”

He’s quiet a second, studying me. “You intervene often?”

“When I can,” I explain, rolling my neck. This feels way too much like speaking to a therapist. “Look, it’s not that bad. She just…she’s got a lot on her mind.”

“She still hung up on that guy?”

I cringe. He must’ve heard about Rey’s…spirited meltdown over being dumped by another private. Yeah, that was pretty bad. “Uh…well, she’s getting better about it.”

He sighs, rubbing a fist over his mouth in annoyance. “Great. I leave in a week and she’s a wreck. Fucking told her not to get involved with anyone.”

And since this advice came from him I’m sure she took it into careful consideration. I bite my tongue and look to the door. “Yo, is she okay? She _is_ in there, right?”

“Ye,” he dismisses, distracted. “Passed out a bit ago. How much she drink?”

Not nearly enough if we’re already back on base. “Not much.” My brows scrunch, confused. “Hey, lighten up on her. She’s not that bad, she’s just….stressed out, I think.”

“She’s my sister,” he refutes, glowering. “I know what she’s like. Fuck…” He rocks back on his heels. “You better watch her once I’m gone.”

I already do that but as a friend. Insulted he thinks I don’t I offer a rude look. “Uh, what? Excuse me, what kind of friend do you think I am? Actually, hold on—you heard her. I don’t need to do anything. She’s an adult. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.”

“Ye but I’m her brother—” he starts, but off with a quick slice of my finger at my throat.

“So? You act like she’ll go off the rails without you. Maybe _you’re_ why she’s like this. Have you thought of that? Huh? Maybe don’t throw grenades at us!”

He smirks at the reminder before he can stop himself. Coughing, he tries forming a straight face. “You guys were behind, but that’s beside the point. She needs someone looking after her.”

“Does not,” I argue, sure I’m right about this. “ _You_ do, not her.”

That smirk returns, unkind this time. “Really? You think you know best?”

“No,” I waffle, “but…but I’m not her. She’s the only one who—man, just leave her be. You heard her.”

He steps forward, appearing to think that over. “That’s all I need to do? Leave her alone? God, and here I thought she was such a bitch because I wasn’t trying hard enough.”

I reach out to slap him, narrowly stopping myself and pointing instead. He’s still my superior. I glare as a last resort, fuming. “You call your mother that, too?”

His smirk brightens, boots echoing on the floor as he steps impossibly closer. I find myself backing up against the wall but I’m not backing down. Rey may call him crazy but he’s still a sergeant. What’s he going to do?

“You’re pretty brave,” he quietly comments, “talking to me like that.”

He’s so close I can smell alcohol on his breath. Vodka. He doesn’t mess around. I tilt my chin, jaw ticking. If he wants a fight I’m more than happy to provide one. “It’s pretty hard to respect someone like you.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs with a tsk, brow darkening. “You’d better take that back.”

I should. I’m not quite sober though and he’s very close to me. I want to see how far I can take it. “Or what? You get me discharged? Then who’ll watch Rey?”

Wait, did he just call me ‘baby’? I think about that too late, watching his face flash from anger to something else, eyes roving over my neck and down to my dress. My heart picks up, wondering why he’s suddenly paying me so much attention. Should I be uncomfortable? I feel like I should but I’m…not. His attention on me is better than being a dick about Rey.

“Fair point,” he agrees, reaching to rest a palm on the wall next to my shoulder. “But I don’t like your tone. It really doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh?” My interest’s mockingly piqued. I’m having fun now, enjoying his gaze. “Should I have ended that with ‘yes sir’?”

His eyes shutter, that smirk turning into a real, pleasurable grin. “Mm. Say that again.”

My mouth pops open. He’s getting something out of this. Lightheaded, I think I am, too. Why? This is my sergeant. I shouldn’t…shouldn’t be doing this.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, head lowering. “You’re right, that was disrespectful.”

He’s still grinning. A hand catches me before I slip away, encouraging my to stay. When I glance up I can see ideas forming in his head.

“Hang on,” he says, thumb running circles on my forearm. “I think we should explore this further. I think you might have some…insight on what I could do better. Don’t you?”

I snort gracelessly, somehow still present. “Are you trying to hook up?”

“You said that, not me,” he admonishes, grin going a bit lopsided. “I would never do that. I’m your superior, after all.”

And he’d be in all sorts of trouble if he tried something so stupid. I’m smiling now too, intrigued. His being my superior isn’t what bothers me though. My hips jut out, brushing right past his thigh. “You’re her brother. She’d kill me.”

He dips his head, carefully studying my face. “You can keep a secret, ye?”

“Keep what a secret?” I innocently inquire, enjoying when his free hand reaches my jaw, gently running a thumb over my cheek. It feels…luxurious, like I’m being pet. Why do I enjoy that? I shudder and his smile warms.

“Do you…?” he inquires, leaving it open ended. Against my better judgment I offer a slight nod, curious about him. The fact this will be awkward tomorrow somehow doesn’t bother me. If he wants to hook up then…I think I want to, too.

Why not? Night’s still young.

A need to push back overwhelms me. Rising on my toes I place a tentative kiss at the corner of his lips. His hands followed me there, holding me as I am, mouth tilting to meet mine. In an instant he’s consumed me, a satiated rumble rolling from his chest. My back is pressed to the wall, both his hands suddenly holding my cheeks, tongue finding mine. His noises encourage mine and I’m moaning, letting his lips pin me down, grinding against me in newfound urgency. Somewhere in my head I realize he’s successfully distracted me from an argument but in this moment I don’t care. All I can focus on his his overwhelming presence, kiss deepening, his fingers pulling through my hair, tousling it further.

A door opens down the hall and he immediately ceases, surging away in a flash. I lean against the wall, sure my face is more flushed than before.

“Come on,” he hoarsely commands, wagging a crooked finger and turning, already walking. I don’t bother searching to see who’s up, instead lurching forward and obediently following him down the corridor. We don’t speak. Instead, I watch his swaggering hips, appreciating the tightness of his jeans. How have I not noticed this before? He looks so casual, like a completely different person than the sergeant I know.

We cross dorms to staff housing, though the way he takes we avoid any bystanders. He swipes a key card at the back door and we’re in, climbing up a stairwell to the third floor. At this point I’m wondering how I’m supposed to get out without being seen but that’s a problem for my sober self in the morning. On the floor we pass several doors. He pauses at one in the middle of the corridor, key swiped once more. I trail him like a shadow into his room, nerves rising. This better be good. If I don’t get an orgasm out of this I may have to complain—to who, I’m not sure yet.

He locks the door behind us, flipping on a light and revealing his…admittedly less than impressive digs. Being a sergeant doesn’t even give him a much bigger room than mine but he does have a bigger bed. I do a short walkthrough, relieved he’s got his own washroom at least. Done, I swirl to him. He’s been watching me from the door, intent. It both unnerves and sends my blood pumping hard. I’ve hooked up with a boy or two in school but with the draft it’s been hard to find the time to properly do that anymore. Unless, of course, I want to end up brokenhearted like Rey and date another private. No, thanks.

This, though…this is a golden opportunity, one I think I’m drawn to specifically due to the volatility. I think he understands it too, careful not to jump before either of us is ready.

“So…” I quietly start, fists bouncing off my hips. My liquid courage is near gone, giving rise to concern. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.

“Strip,” he orders, which is a weird way to start this. After a pause I touch my dress, just to be sure. 

“Me? Here?”

He nods, hands moving to his pockets. “Ye.”

I want to laugh. This is silly. It’s a real request though, one he’s waiting to have fulfilled. So I do it. I reach over my shoulders, find the dress’s zip, slowly pulling it down. The fabric comes with, straps sliding down my shoulders, falling from my torso to a pool on the floor. His eyes travel up from the floor to my chest, then to my hips. He doesn’t comment on the shorts, doesn’t say anything even when they’re off. He licks his lips, clearing his throat, gaze conflicted.

“Show me your ass,” he instructs, and I do, spinning about on my heels. It’s like I’m on autopilot, too absorbed in the game he’s playing to really question it. It’s a game I’m sure, I just don’t know where he’s going.

I look over my shoulder, waiting for approval. He’s grinning. It emboldens me and I hook both thumbs into my panties, shimmying them down. He groans, stepping forward. Pausing behind me his hands cup my hips, sliding up my torso, plucking at my bra. It’s pulled off, I’m grinning now, too, more shy than I think I’ve been in years. His arms circle around me, pulling me against him. He’s softly bumping into my ass, chin resting on my shoulder. I look ahead, heart beating hard in my chest. He feels it, lightly laughing, lips grazing over sensitive skin.

“Shy?” he wonders, fingers tracing up to my chest. Before he touches my breasts I shiver, nodding honestly.

“Ye.”

He harrumphes, cupping my breasts, thumbs rotating over soft flesh. “Good. I like shy girls. They’re so cute, so obedient.”

“I’m not—” I start but he hushes me, tsk-ing against my neck.

“Shh. Just relax, baby. Let me handle this, alright? I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

I bite my lip (I’ll laugh if I don’t) and roll my head back, taking his advice. Why not? I came with. Could’ve refused. Could’ve left. A part of me is very, very excited to see this through.

“You want that?” he asks, right hand teasing a nipple, the other squeezing the soft globe. If I wasn’t under his spell I am now. My back arches. I nod fervently. It must be the right answer; he spins me back toward him, engrossed in my body. It’s an interesting feeling being so blatantly objectified. My stomach flutters happily.

“Get on the bed, baby,” he instructs, nudging me that way. “Lay down, spread your legs, show me your pretty little pussy.”

He says it so casually. I do as I’m told, feet close together on the three steps to his bed. He stands before me, patiently waiting while I find a good spot in the middle, stretching out, tepidly prying my knees from one another. This is…just about as embarrassing as I thought it’d be yet I’m still doing it. When my thighs touch the bed he takes a knee between them, focused entirely on one thing. I tilt my head, his ceiling suddenly so interesting, and take a deep breath. It’s exhaled the second I feel his fingers on me, stroking velvety skin, legs involuntarily drawing to one another. He prevents this, elbows keeping them apart.

“Be a good girl,” he cautions, tone unreadable. This is accompanied by his thumb slipping between my folds, slowly stroking my clit. It feels wonderful, leagues better than touching myself. I’m keening, squirming despite his stern hold.

“Hold still.” He acts like his middle finger hasn’t invaded my slit, smoothly running along inner walls. When I can’t comply he tsk’s again, adding another finger. By now his knees are beneath my thighs. He towers over me.

“Mm, you don’t listen very well.” I doubt he would either in my position. “Keep this up and I might need to punish you.”

Ah, that’s what he’s going for. I understand the game he’s playing, find it a bit intimidating but too intrigued to back away. He’s already touching me regardless.

“I can’t,” I pant, hips squirming more when his pressure increases on my clit. He’s expecting a break, anticipating it, I think. “I’ve never—”

I’m cut off, whining when he dips over me, ducking to my chest and sucking a nipple to his warm, waiting mouth. He sucks hard, tongue flickering over the stiff peak. Between my clit and my chest I can’t keep still even if I wanted to, breathlessly pushing toward him, trying to coax him deeper. He bites down, just a quick little nip. It catches me off guard. I collapse on the bed, cooing, hoping he’ll do it again. He does when the other nipple is treated to the same process and I yelp in delight this time, hoping he doesn’t have neighbors at the moment. It encourages him. He leans back with a sigh, abandoning me to look me over a final time.

“Hands over your head, baby. You’re lucky they’re not tied.”

Am I? I’m not sure. My hands go up anyway, ribcage lengthening. I would’ve never considering being tied up but when he mentions it, it sounds hot. “Do you want to?”

His fingers stop and he chortles faintly, fixing me with a guarded look. “Maybe next time. Gotta start off easy.”

I watch him beneath my lashes, body warming at the prospect of more. Impatience oozes from my core though, sure there won’t be a ‘next time’. “But…please?”

He shudders, enjoying my manners, but doesn’t act on it. Instead he removes his fingers, reaching for and unbuckling his belt. “No. This is your free pass and besides, I’m impatient.”

His jeans are next, lowered just enough so he can pull his cock free from briefs. I can’t see the full thing from my position but I smile, impressed by what I do catch. He strokes it in one hand, coating it in my slick.

“I’m gonna fuck you, baby,” he taunts, filth making my stomach drop in the best way. I try opening my legs wider, helping him position himself, cock’s tip prodding against me. The smile he wears is pure delight, something I’ve never seen on him. “Going to stuff you full of cock. You want that?”

My nod is adamant. I’m straining to get him inside, trying to worm my way closer. “Mhmm. Please.”

“I’m gonna stretch your little pussy so much,” he continues, voice soft, lost in his own world. He’s teasing me, head rubbing over my labia. “And when I finish? Mm, baby, you’re gonna be one fucking mess. You want that?”

I’m so turned on I just want him in me no matter what he says. I’m nodding, panting, doing my best to entice him. “Mhmm. Please, sir.”

He groans in satisfaction, head parting my slit, stretching my opening just like he said it would, his free hand gripping my hip for stability. “Yes…say that again, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” I admonish, relieved I’m turning him on just as much. “Please…please fuck me.”

He complies, sinking into me with a hardened gasp. I can’t help the moan escaping my throat, enjoying the tight fit. The sensation spreads from my hips to my belly, quickly rushing to my limbs. It sizzles through my veins when he pulls himself over me, sinking deep and burying himself to the hilt. It shouldn’t be possible but he forces it all, hips grinding against me, elbows squeezing my sides and keeping me right where I am.

“Yes, baby,” he hisses on my neck, juxtaposing my needy pout. “That’s it, take it all.”

Eyes fluttering shut I try to do just that, mewling when he thrusts deeper. His weight keeping me down, combined with such invasion, is overwhelming and it intensifies when he finds my mouth, capturing it with his, tongue forcing itself with mine. The fact he never really bothered to take off more than his boots doesn’t impede anything. He picks up his pace, body enveloping mine the harder he pushes me into the mattress. My insides are taut, his cock stimulating not only my clit but that sweet spot deep within me, pleasure constantly rising like it’s never going to end. It builds just as his thrusts do, and I think I understand what he means now. Trapped beneath him I’m panting into his mouth, forced to pay all my attention to him. Nothing past him matters and when his cock hits harder I can’t not choke out a cry, senses failing as he coaxes a powerful wave over my being.

The insides of my eyelids go white, hearing mute a moment while his kiss deepens, forehead boring down on mine, urgently picking up his pace. It’s too much and before I know it another wave crashes over the other. I have to break away, have to tilt my head to the side to get air and utter incoherent exclamations. He’s not helping, tongue lathing my neck and jaw, humming approvingly.

“That’s it,” he hisses between quick breaths, nuzzling damp, sizzling skin. “Come for me, baby. Come on.”

How does he know how to say these things? I’m barely listening but I’m taking his advice, my hips involuntarily pushing back, trying to reach something I’ve never felt before. I focus on it, my world completely and entirely about that sensation, my arms coming down and wrapping over his shoulders, holding him impossibly close. He growls in my ear, slamming into me like we’ve decided to create our own porn. It hurts but it’s…an interesting type of pain, accentuating the pleasure within me.

“Come for me, baby,” he raggedly pants, clutching at me the same way my nails have dug into his back. “Come for me.”

I didn’t think I could but I do, an entirely different sensation pulsing through my synapses than before. This time I go rigid, aware I’m crying harshly, a buzzing vibe embracing and throbbing over me. My core clenches tightly on his cock, warmth flooding and gushing down the back of my thighs. Above me Maks makes the best noises, almost as if he’s proud of me, and pushes through my clamping with determination.

I can’t feel much, delirious with an overdose of oxytocin, but I know he’s close. He’s getting sloppy, uncaring how fast he’s going. And then, before I’ve even drifted back down he comes, gasping in my hair, pulling me so tight I can’t really breathe. His cock tightens, holding within me for a good, long moment. The longer it goes on the harder he holds me to him, his pants ragged and hoarse. When he finally finishes he simply lays over me, giving us both a moment to catch our breath, both our hearts thudding erratically over one another.

Abruptly he raised his head, extracting a hand to pull my face to his and peppering it with kisses. His cheeks are flushed, just as much as I’m sure mine are.

“Good girl,” he praises between kisses. His words are so quiet compared to my buzzing ears. “Good, good girl.”

I don’t know how to respond to that so I don’t, my muscles melting against his bed in pure relaxation. I’ve never…never felt this way before, so calm and at peace. Any worries from before are gone, my sole focus being the tail end of ecstasy mingling through my blood.

He pulls from me too soon, cock popping free and unleashing a torrent of come. Laughing faintly he rises and pulls off his shirt, wiping most of it away before he ends up with a huge stain on his bed. I’m not even embarrassed; he’s the one who encouraged it. Once that’s finished he tosses it on the floor, then flops on his side next to me, hazy eyes thoroughly crawling over my listless frame. His fingers ghost over my hip, coming to rest on my thigh while he tilts his chin, kissing my warm cheek. I offer a sleepy grin, his touch tickling.

“You should take a shower,” he quietly advises, fingers going rogue and stroking my slit. I moan at the feeling, legs twitching tiredly.

“I can’t. I don’t think my legs’ll hold.”

He chuckles victoriously, scooting until we’re flush and wrapping his arms about me, pulling me to his chest. “Mm, good. That’s what I like to hear. Give it a second, then. Maybe we’ll fuck again.”

Part of me hopes so but the rest of me is fighting sex-induced exhaustion. I’m too spent to do more than nod, snuggling up against him and enjoying the soft, content moan he utters in response.

“Remember,” he whispers while I’m gloating, lips so close to my ear. “This stays between you and me. Alright, baby?”

My breathing’s becoming soft, even. I offer a slight nod, know exactly how to get him to smile now.

“What does?”

Growling approval he tightens his embrace, a leg folding over mine.

“Good girl.”


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of what was their norm.

Thursday, May 7th, 2055, Egypt

 

Smoke fills what should be a hazy blue sky. A lot of places we go have the same problem. Cities torn to rubble are a common occurrence in this region, ash settling over skeletal remains of infrastructure. Despite such bleak surroundings there’s always a crowd of local citizens lining whatever main street we march down, mostly relieved to see us. Sometimes.

Another piece of enemy territory has been recaptured, bolstering our efforts and giving us good reason to brag. When we do these parades I wonder how many understand their homes are being used in place of mine. Rey mentioned that once, I think, in our short tour in Nigeria (an easy place for new trainees) and now I can’t get it out of my head. This is why you’re not supposed to think too hard about these things but I can’t help it. She keeps bringing it up; when training ended it’s like she decided to become a pacifist, like she didn’t realize what would happen when we showed up for our assignments. I get it though—she would’ve been in her third year of residency had the draft not demanded our heads. Did they take her medical background into consideration while assigning? Nope. I think she’s a little salty over that. She’s _still_ trying to change units.

Me? I didn’t have much to lose, figured I’d come when called before they dragged me out. Luckily no one took the barista background into consideration and sent me into food services, although sometimes I think that might be a better position. The only reason Rey and I are still in the same unit is because it’s alphabetical. It’s sheer luck her name almost always comes right after mine.

We finish rounding the toppled city in the middle of large dunes, a stronghold for the enemy apparently, and gather at our jeeps. Rey and I guard the back of the convoy with several others, cracking awkward jokes. She ignores flirtations from a guy who’s been pursuing her since we touched down in Cairo, citing not wanting to get involved with another soldier for obvious reasons. I laugh at his futile attempts while my eyes scan the blackened horizon past town. The wind’s picking up, sand reducing visibility further. Someone said the bigger pyramids are buried around here. I think they’re liars—I’ve seen nothing interesting, nothing but rubble.

“Yo,” I call to Rey’s suitor, quickly glancing his way before returning to my vigilance. “Leave her alone. She’s already seeing someone. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“You’re seeing someone? Who?” he asks, incredulous. Rey’s eyes roll.

“There’s this thing called the internet, Jeet. The dating pool isn’t limited to just you.”

“Well yeah,” he stammers, apparently heartbroken, “but don’t you want to like, _see_ them?”

“I’m not interested, Jeet.”

“But—”

“She’s not interested, Jeet,” I echo, grinning at his desperation. “Go hump someone else’s leg.”

“Oh my god,” Rey snickers, trying her best to keep a straight face until he trudges away (our ride back will be super quiet, I’m sure). Her boots crunch in the arid dirt on her walk over to me. “We need to get you out of here. You’re starting to talk like them.”

But it’s fun. I get a kick out of it. “I mean, look at him though. He’s thirstier than a dog. Need to neuter some of these guys.”

She’s shaking her head but her smile indicates she agrees. “Or just give us a day off, send us to Cairo to pick up some beer. God, this place sucks.”

It definitely does, that I can’t dispute.

A rickety old truck ambles several blocks away, it’s bed full of destroyed concrete. My eyes follow it until it disappears around a corner. “Hey, how’s mystery guy by the way?”

I don’t even need to look to know she’s smiling like an idiot. “He’s good. He sent a picture last night. Wanna see him when we get back?”

“Is he cute?”

“Hell yeah.”

“And you’re sure it’s really him?”

She laughs, switching her rifle to the other hip. “Who knows? It’s not like we’ll ever meet, but he’s so sweet, Edin. It gives me hope for other guys, eventually.”

“You’re surprisingly positive about this,” I observe, happy she’s happy. It took ages for her to get over her previous paramour.

Our unit commander whistles, indicating the convoy’s ready. Rey and I back toward our jeep, relieved to get out of the blistering heat. She gushes about this guy all the way back to base, much to the chagrin of our companions but I don’t mind. It’s nice to see her in a better mood.

We arrive at our shoddy little base about an hour before sunset, the perimeter essentially a couple tents and some pop-up buildings covered in camouflage. Should we be present during an attack I’m sure this place might look worse than the town we just left but we’re confident in our recapture of the region. I feel good about that, I think. Once we’re out and unpacked I head for the showers, Rey running off to hunt down the only available tablet in the entire unit. She’s eager to show me this guy.

In the five minutes or so available to shower my thoughts wander, an odd guilt rising in my stomach. Ever since we left Istanbul I’ve wanted to tell her I hooked up with her brother, several times, before he left. It’s the only thing I’ve really ever kept from her but it’s not like I’d tell her the dirty details anyway. Just….someone to confide in over the fact I think I broke about eighty rules jumping into bed with him. Still, it’s not like any trouble’s come of it and I’m fairly sure it’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all.

She’s already at my cot when I finish, still rubbing a towel over my hair as I access the tent. She’s got a million-watt grin plastered on her face which, in my opinion, is hilarious.

“Okay, show me this dude,” I insist, plunking down next to her. She hands over the tablet, humming in anticipation.

“His name’s Devin,” she quietly explains while I find myself eyeing a well built guy in one of our uniforms. “He’s stationed out of Turkey so hey, maybe we’ll go back there next or maybe I can convince the higher ups to transfer me.”

I pull an offended look. “Without me?”

She grins. “I’d drag you with, obviously. And yeah, he’s cute, but Edin…Edin, his messages are so sweet.”

Judging by the one accompanying his picture I have to agree. I’m thrilled Rey’s so infatuated but someone has to be cautious, someone needs to be the voice of reason. It seems too good to be true. I side-eye her.

“He hasn’t asked you to wire any money, right?”

“Nope,” she proudly proclaims, beaming. “Nothing weird, just nice.”

I’m surprised. “Not even a dick pic?”

Giggling, she shakes her head. “Not even that. I mean, if it does turn out this is all a big lie shame on me for trusting too easily, right? But I haven’t gotten any weird vibes yet. Is that weird?”

“Nah,” I answer, handing back the tablet to let her fawn over him some more. Back in school I’d been tight with a group of gamers for an MMO we all used to play. Sometimes everything turns out fine and I’m getting the same vibe as her, I think. He just seems like a regular guy.

“I hope he’s real,” I say, meaning it. Holding the tablet to her chest Rey nods in concurrence.

“I hope so, too,” she sighs, grin growing complacent. “If not I guess Jeet is okay.”

We both snort at the idea before the topic turns to what we should do next time in Cairo. If things stay stable they might let us head that way in a couple weeks and I don’t know about Rey but I need to track down some more comfortable clothes for base and a cheap phone. I haven’t called my mom in months and while she says she doesn’t mind messages I know she’d like to hear my voice. We’re not allowed to have one out here but a throwaway one would be fine. Just something to keep me busy.

Rey heads out to mingle and shower and I keep the tablet, sending my mom a quick message, reminding her I’m only half a day ahead here and that we’re doing good, fighting the good fight, making home proud, etcetera. I’m not alone long, other soldiers filtering in and out of the tent, commenting on some of the things we saw earlier in the day. We’ve been in the same company for several months now so we’re all fairly comfortable with one another. Our unit’s pretty chill compared to others—per our resident gossip, we’ve heard some overseas units are barely holding themselves together. Rey says that’s what we get for shoving people together so quickly but I think she’s just looking for things to criticize since she still hasn’t been transferred and likely never will.

She returns sooner than I expect, face a little crooked. When I hand the tablet back I ask her what’s up. Frowning, she plunks down on her cot, clearly thinking something over.

“Um,” she finally chokes out, looking at me, “I’m being transferred.”

Without me? Not cool but she did want this much more than me. I swallow my jealousy and lean forward, legs crossing eagerly. “Really? Damn, that’s great. Where to?”

“Oh no, you too,” she quickly clarifies, forcing my gut to sink. I’m…kind of okay with being in the middle of the desert, far from the main conflict. “I’m going to Calgary.”

“Like, Canada Calgary?” I ask before I can think about it, wincing. Calgary’s remote but too close to action in my opinion. “Wait, so I—”

“No, you’re going—ask the comm,” she dismisses, still thinking. “I just…Edin, I know I asked for this but there’s nothing in Calgary. I was thinking like, Nepal or something. God, even Brisbane, radiation and all. If I have to spend another year marching around no-man’s land I’m gonna go nuts.”

I’m still on the cot, brows lowering. “Better than being down on the border, I guess. God, that sucks. So all that petitioning and they send you there? Wait, why am I going anywhere?”

“Everyone is,” she replied, focus distracted. “Go ask comm. They’re disbanding the sector for now so we’re going where we’re needed. I thought…thought we might go together but no, me and my picky ass always bitching about being here gets me sent there. Fuck…”

Calgary…that’s halfway around the world. If Rey’s headed there then chances are…are we finally going to the front lines? I really don’t want to, I’ve heard the Americas are ruthless. We’d be better off cutting it as a loss but I guess that’s why it needs liberation.

After some waffling I head out and across camp to our officer’s quarters where some other soldiers loiter, too. They murmur worried questions my way but what do I know? I don’t even know where I’m going until I check a roster posted at the tent flap. My heart sinks in my stomach and I bite my lip. I check Rey’s spot and see an asterisk next to her name indicating she see the comm but not me. No, I’m headed to a fort in Bogota. It’s so close to home, way too close to active combat. We’re still trying to take back Panama, and if I’m that close then I guess…guess I get to see real combat, not the vaulting-bombs-great distances kind.

Taking a deep breath I desert the roster and take a walk about camp, letting it sink in. Colombia. I mean, if I survive there I suppose I’ll be fine anywhere else.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New positions, new issues.

Wednesday, September 15th, 2055, Bogota

 

Rumbles echo over the darkened city, noise amplified by the humid clouds covering the region. At night it makes things unbearable but it feels like home to me. I’d like it more if I weren’t sweating profusely through my uniform.

The last two months have been the worst. Absolute worst. Bogota is hell, and if anyone says otherwise they’re lying. Lagos and even Cairo were a walk in the park compared to this abomination, and the thing is we’re literally only here to recapture the gate of South America. Why? Let them have it. It’s rubble and destruction and the locals really aren’t into us being here, not after we spent the past four years trashing what used to be, I’m told, a very beautiful place. I wasn’t around for that and only see the bad.

Seriously, it’s only been two months. I never thought I’d see this side of combat, sneaking through alleys in full gear, shooting anything that moves because if you don’t it’ll shoot you first. Rey doesn’t get those kinds of updates in my messages.

On the ride here we were told it was a deep place, that it was going to get hot both literally and figuratively. Commanders acknowledged some of us might not be prepared mentally, their advice being to suck it up and make a game out of it. Yeah, Rey would have all sorts of issues being here.

On my post along a barbed wire wall I fan my collar and keep a vigilant eye over the pitch black neighborhood below. Curfew’s in effect for the unlucky citizens still trapped here and we took out a nest of rebels yesterday so it should be quiet tonight—or they could be planning retribution. Who knows? I keep watch on high alert, still sensitive to the amount of times rounds have whizzed past my helmet lately. I don’t enjoy brushes with death, I’ve decided.

Rey’s position sounds so kush compared to mine. She can’t say much about it but her messages indicate it’s not a hotspot. It’s just boring. I hope that’s the truth. She did say she actually met that guy she’s been talking to in transit and he’s real, so maybe things are turning around for her.

“What’s good, Bashir?” my replacement calls from the bottom of my watchtower’s ladder. He says it like ‘basher’ and I try not to smile, my eyes never leaving the streets before us.

“What’s up, Rhees?”

“Shift change. Lucky you, you get to spend all night in a soft bunker. How’s that for a treat?”

I snort. “Yeah, if it doesn’t collapse.” Our bunker in the city is a death trap but I’ll take it over staring into the dark. At least it’s quiet in this sector so far. Every once in a while flashes will light up other parts of town. The enemy enjoys reminding us they’re still here despite our best efforts.

I don’t leave until Rhees climbs up with me, nudging the butt of his rifle with mine (why we decided to do this I have no idea but it makes me feel like I have a friend here). He’s nice enough, flirts occasionally but keeps it in his pants, and has a sweet collection of aggressive music on his link when we’re in the jeep. He’s essentially the unit’s hype man. Also he speaks the local dialect so he has the honor of shouting orders whenever we break up a new piece of turf. I enjoy his company.

“They quiet so far?” he asks, peering into the night. I nod. He smirks. “Great. They always like to get rambunctious right around dawn. Sure glad I volunteered for this shit.”

Having stepped back I glance to our left and right; both nearby towers are in transition, too. “You still on Yen’s schedule?”

He nods, lips pursed. Yen’s gone on leave, his hometown lost in a landslide last month. He’ll be back soon, we hope. A dozen others are gone for various reasons and it’s nerve-wracking being such a small team in this sector.

“Hey, I got a question,” he adds when I start for the ladder. The sky rumbles overhead while I lean on the railing.

“Shoot.”

“You’re the coffee expert, right?”

I laugh faintly. “I guess. Why?”

“Just curious,” he responds, eyes intent on the city. “Got these people in our company from all over. Some have seen actual combat, some were in offices, and then we have…people like you, the barista.”

“Want me to be a struggling musician, too?” I inquire, grinning when he groans.

“I was just about to break onto the scene, thanks. Anyway I was thinking…I have no idea how they pull us together. You’d think they’d want people with more experience.”

“I think they’re sick of all that experience,” I point out, moving for the ladder. My first unit was alphabetical but out here it’s different. Out here they just put people together who might survive. “Gotta get our wings one way or another, ye?”

“Wings,” he snorts, shoulders quivering. “You’re funny, Bashir. You know that?”

My humor comes and goes. I clamor down the ladder, grinning. “Hang in there, bud. We’ll be out of here soon.”

I hear him mutter we’ll leave in body bags but don’t answer, climbing down to solid ground. I start for the bunker, wondering what we have to eat and hoping some of the magazines they snag for us are still intact. Reading mundane makeup and exercise tips have become my only distraction lately.

Not even ten steps there I hear Rhees uttering something behind me. My ears perk up and I turn, studying the cloudy abyss above. He sounds like he’s on his link but it’s not on my channel. As a precaution I sidestep for the nearest tent, nerves rising the louder he gets. Finally he turns, spots me, an arm waving frantically.

“Edin,” he calls, tone urgent, “Activity on the—”

He ducks before he can finish, something whizzing overhead. I can barely see it in the dark. It’s just a streak of black until it’s not, the back of our encampment lighting up in one swallow. It’s like daylight for a second, blinding us. The noise burns my ears while I crouch, civilian thoughts coming to mind. It’s the middle of the night so if they cut the power we’ll have to wear night vision but I hate those because they make me claustrophobic—we’re just doing to die, aren’t we?

Another flash goes off to our left, the ground shaking from a new explosive impact. I won’t be getting my goggles now, not when the building we use as storage is crumbling.

Beyond the wall the rat-a-tat of bullets accompanies more explosions. One hits too close, my ears throbbing. Someone grabs my shoulder, hauling me to my feet. Rhees is yelling at me, pulling me toward the bunkers but I can’t hear him. My ears are ringing, still throbbing, just like my heart. I’m prepared for this in the city, in broad daylight, but not out here. His words about me being a barista are lodged in my thoughts, reminding me I may be doing my duty but maybe I do require more than six months training. I mean, I think I’m doing good but—

“Come on!” Rhees' shouting finally breaks through, urging me forward. He’s muttering under his breath in Spanish, on his own level of adrenaline. “Fuck. Okay Edin, you hear me? We’re gonna get to the bunker and regroup, alright? Your barista ass can handle that, ye?”

When he puts it that way I know I can. I follow him through smoke, racing past tents and clamoring soldiers, pretending I am absolutely ready for this. Rhees throws lyrics on the way, maintaining some semblance of calm. We assemble with several other units, our comms assigning new orders. It’s suddenly chaos, bodies moving this way and that, preparing for what we assume will be a long night. The bunker shakes occasionally: I focus all my attention on following orders.

The goal is to defend our position until morning. Calls have already gone out to other camps but the roads are impassable at this hour. Drones will be here soon at best. If we can hold for them we can hold our position. The hope is the enemy won’t breach our walls but, when we emerge from the bunker with more gear things look grim. Beyond our our borders the city’s awash in billowing fire in several corners, where our camps are. What the hell? Yesterday we thought we’d contained a good number of hotspots. Today it’s like we did nothing.

It’s hard following Rhees now, climbing over downed towers and concrete, but I manage. We’ve fallen in with the rest of our unit, though some are notably missing. We scramble to the eastern edge of camp where the wall still partially stands. The enemy hasn’t come through; they’re holding back. We use this to our advantage, floodlights coming on overhead while we take cover. The city before us illuminates, dozens of figures scattering like cockroaches to the shadows. Explosions cease, gunfire calming from the city and coming more from us than them. The only thing out of control on our end is a fire in the back crossing several tents.

We hunker down in our niches, sweating, waiting. Every once in a while the enemy will move into view, and a harsh ping will cut through the air. Very few are stupid enough to emerge but every hit helps. We have no instructions past holding our position so we do just that. I keep my rifle ready, nerves on a level I don’t normally feel. I spot a straggler darting from one building to another. Someone else takes them down before I can react. It happens several more times but I only shoot once, missing. They’re always taken down by someone else.

We hold our place for what feels like ages but it’s only fifteen minutes before things die down, movement from no-man’s zone slowing and our own forces bolstering. Drones do eventually arrive, setting off explosions throughout the city with careful precision. Each time one goes off Rhees’ whoop echoes over our spots. Things are looking up.

Over link we hear we’re gaining ground in several camps. Our confidence rises in increments. Other units begin filtering to the edge of camp, jeeps riding out in search of easy targets. I think I underestimated my strength—our strength. We’re doing well, loads better than anticipated.

Fires still burn across the city but, for this being hell, we’re doing alright. Rhees is reciting a victory chorus—I have no idea where he stores all those words in his head. He pulls out of his cubby hole the second we get a call from command saying we’re in the clear, loping to others to check and ensure they’re fine, humming exuberantly. Others crawl out, as so I, carefully keeping an eye on the streets just in case.

“Thank God, Allah, Hare Krishna, and all the saints in the Catholic cookbook,” he announces, breaking the tension in the air and convincing several of our team to laugh. “We did it, y’all. We have survived another night in hell.”

“Couple more hours until dawn, you dick,” someone points out, to which he laughs and points their way.

“Hey, they’re human, too. They need some rest, ye?”

He has a point. I cautiously move to the rubble he’s standing on, mouth sporting a thin, harried smile. He grins brightly, pulling me up an draping an arm over my shoulders. “And you though we were gonna die.”

“I never said that,” I deny, balking at the idea. I’m pretty sure I didn’t anyway. “I just said—”

Behind us the camp lights up in a brilliant, popping flash. Heat throws itself at us, knocking us down as the earth churns beneath us. Thunder invades my ears, louder than I think I’ve ever heard. I hit the ground without warning and then there’s nothing. Just darkness and ringing. The ringing never stops.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reassignments.

Friday, November 26th, 2055, Lagos

 

I file into a large symposium, it’s seats half full already with people like me. The sheer numbers make me nervous but I can’t do anything about that. I keep my head low and take a seat in the back, fidgeting restlessly, constantly looking over my shoulder like I’m expecting something, someone. My fear’s warranted. This time I don’t have someone shielding me.

It’s humiliating losing such a strong foothold. Bogota is under enemy control, has been since we pulled back last month due to overwhelming attacks. In that time I’ve been transported from a rank prison camp to a shoddy hospital tent, eventually to a real facility, and then shipped back to Nigeria. Then it was off to therapy and now here I am with the remaining survivors. We made it, sure, but now we’re being split up again. Time to serve elsewhere.

I thought I’d gone deaf for days after the blast, couldn’t hear a thing besides this horrible ringing echoing off my skull. It was nothing a little surgery couldn’t fix but those first few days were tough. A couple broken bones and imprisonment in enemy hands was nothing compared to that bullshit, the only thing being the paranoia I can’t shake. I try though, sure if no one else is concerned maybe I shouldn’t be, either. It doesn’t help but keeps me in check.

Up front I spy some of my former unit mates. I don’t want to see them, don’t want to be here any longer. My therapists keep suggesting I should talk to a counselor about my feelings but I don’t trust them.

The hall finally fills and the lights dim, one of our superiors walking onto a stage below. I can’t remember his name. He was in our training vids, I think. He welcomes us to Lagos, as if none of us haven’t been here before, and thanks us for our service. Were we in better straights I imagine the hall might erupt in whoops and the like but this morning it’s quiet. He goes on, informing us our bravery at Bogota will not be forgotten even if we have to move on for now. At this time we have to think strategically, and for the future. He goes on for several more minutes before pulling out a tablet. Today we’re going to be assigned new roles in various places of need. Our individual circumstances are being taken into consideration, he says, and that’s when I hear soft murmurings of doubt.

To hush us he begins reading off new assignments in alphabetical order, citing we can talk to our superiors if we have further concerns. Once we hear our new enlistments we may head to the dorms to begin packing—we all ship off this evening.

He goes through the A’s at a painstaking rate. By the time he gets to the B’s I’m anxious, certain I’m going back to South America. I can’t. Family or not I can’t go back. I will if I have to, but I’m working myself up so thoroughly I almost don’t hear my assignment. It drifts up to me regardless, a dull tone bringing more mystery.

“Bashir, Edin Maryam, eighty-third unit, private: please see Commander Liu in room 210 for further instruction.”

Some people were told more or less the same thing about seeing their comm. Fearing the worst I get up and woodenly make my way out of the hall and upstairs to the right room. My comm is already there. He puts on a neutral face when I step in and beckons me to shut the door. I do, tentatively standing nearby.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

He nods beyond a busy working desk, sighing. “Bashir, we’re giving you special consideration due to your captivity in Bogota. I’m aware you weren’t there long but you were in the same camp as several high-profile officers. Because of this we’d like to send you to Calgary.”

Calgary? My mind shoots in several directions. Rey’s there, which is great, but at the same time there’s nothing in Calgary. It’s empty. Why would they send me there if he’s talking about enemy leaders?

Liu sets his elbows on the desk, casually leaning forward. “I’m sure you’ve heard Calgary is an easy gig. Much as I’m sure you’d like to maintain that notion we do have…a facility there. It is secure and intentionally isolated. It houses any high-profile prisoners of war. Because of your involvement in Bogota we believe you’ve be useful in the interrogation process. Do you have any questions?”

I do but they’re put on hold while I think about seeing Rey again. I’ve missed her so much, missed having a friend to talk to, and even if I’m stuck in a prison at least I’d be close.

Standing a bit straighter I offer Liu a polite nod, hands behind my back. “Where do I report for deployment, sir?”


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New assignments and reunification.

Tuesday, November 30th, 2055, Calgary

 

Canada is freezing. It’s -19 Celsius when I climb out of the jeep, not even my parka keeping me warm. I’ve never been this far north before, never seen a ruddy sky at noon where the sun just barely makes it over the horizon. Only two other soldiers made the trip with me, both privates from Bogota and both with the same level of touched nerves as me.

Grabbing our bags we idly study a huge, camouflaged structure built into a wooded hillside, the entire thing covered in snow at the moment. In the summers it gets as hot as 40 degrees but spring thaw’s not for several more months and summer? Hard to even imagine. The structure itself looks monolithic, clearly built to tuck most of it away beneath the frozen earth. It looks well kept from what we can see.

The comm who drove us from Calgary’s main base tells us to follow her. We form a loose line, trudging through the drifts and up the hill. It took twelve hours to drive here so I technically find it unfair they said I was headed to Calgary when, really, that’s not the case at all. I’m salty about the travel, having been cooped up for dozens upon dozens of hours now in cargo planes, buses, trains, and jeeps. On the other hand it’s the most idle I’ve been for years. I got a lot of magazine reading done on the trip—I even know what this upcoming year’s trendy color is supposed to be.

No one’s really told us what to expect here. I assume the other two have also been told this place holds prisoners of war but what exactly that entails is something we haven’t asked about and a topic the comm doesn’t want to discuss, either.

“Almost there,” she assures us, ignoring our straggling. “Future visits you’ll come in from a hangar. While here you’ll be under the command of Officers Basman, Obe, Singh and Shen.”

My heart lurches at the mention of officers but I keep my face neutral, focusing on the cold. Is Rey already a sergeant? It can’t be her brother, he’s in Bhutan doing who knows what. I thought Rey was in Calgary, the real fort. Perhaps she kept as good secrets as me.

“Your initial assignment spans through the end of 2056,” our comm continues, guiding us to a nondescript patch of blanketed shrubs on the edge of the building. I’m not surprised when camouflaged soldiers emerge from the plants, nodding at our comm. She nods back before finishing. “We’re hoping to have finished our ops by then but you’ll be notified should your position change.”

Behind the soldiers a door icily pops from the building, sliding open. I can’t help thinking of my mom—she still thinks these are the height of technology. The comm beckons us forward, standing by. She won’t be going any further. Our new guards move us in and she leaves us with a salute.

“From here on out you’re members of Camp Bhutan.”

My spine shivers from both the cold and the name. I have a bad feeling about this all the sudden. Rigidly, all three of us file inside, a warm, dim hall enveloping us. The door hisses shut behind us, our old comm gone and replaced by several others meandering down the way. We’re escorted to them. My companions unbutton their coats; I leave mine as is, thankful for the sudden increase in warmth. My pack is heavy on one shoulder, the entirety of my belongings now able to fit in one duffel bag.

My heart rate triples lining up in front of our new comms. All four have lined to match us.

“You’re the team from Bogota?” one of them wonders—his badge identifies him as Singh. We salute and announce we are, the first real military action we’ve done in days. He offers a friendly smile.

“Welcome to Bhutan—no, we’re not _in_ Bhutan. Do not joke about it, it gets old real fast. We’ve been briefed on your roles. Understand we do have a counselor on premises should you require it. Before we address your main purpose and duties expected of you I’d like to introduce your superiors. To my right we have Captain Anya Shen, comm for four tours and leader of informatics.”

She nods encouragingly to us. I keep my focus on her and Singh, ignoring their left. Singh continues. “To Shen’s right is Lt. Marcus Obe, comm for six tours and in charge of facility security.”

He looks calm, laidback. I’m sure he truly isn’t.

“On our left you’ll see Sergeant Maks Basman, comm for 3 tours and Sergeant within training camps, currently director of ops and interrogation.” Rey’s brother soberly juts his chin our way and I pretend he doesn’t exist, unsure what else to do. Singh then raises his hand.

“I’m Andy Singh, comm of affairs and facility ops. I’ve been a comm for five tours. If you have any questions or concerns regarding our facility don’t hesitate to bring them to me. Privates Bashir, Gabale and Hernandez—you’re in good hands with us. Now, some house rules.”

He starts over rules while we begin moving, slowly heading deeper down the tunnel and emerging into a large, open space painted in muted blues and beiges. I’m trying to listen and take in the environment but my gaze keeps running to Maks’ back, nervous. I can’t be in the same facility as him. For one he’s…well, he’s Rey’s brother. I’ve slept with him, too, but I’d like to pretend that never happened. It’d been agreed we wouldn’t talk about it, ever. The assumption was we’d never meet again, either. Mind made up, I vow to keep my composure. What else can I do?

House rules are par for the course, a little more intense given where we are. We report to our pod supervisors who, for us, we’ll all have the same one. Unlike other camps we do have a complete medical team on board, a full-scale cafeteria, a gym and limited armory (access pending, of course). The upper floors are where we’ll spend the majority of our free time as our dorms are on top, and the lower floors are currently restricted for security purposes until we gain clearance on our access badges. Those floors, Singh explains, are where we keep inmates. I think he expects one of us to ask what’s up with that and gives us a quick rundown.

“Yes, Bhutan houses several hundred prisoners of war, in varying degrees of offense. We also hold them for various reasons, many of them to obtain crucial information to our cause. Several things to understand about your time here.”

“One, this is a maximum security location. It is a volatile environment that is imperative to keep unknown. Should you leave these walls you’re expected to not only not know Bhutan exists but that you work in Calgary and have no knowledge of a facility in this region. Second, you will be utilized in investigations against current and future prisoners. This will not be your primary function but know it will occur. You will not speak of these investigations to coworkers and, of course, anyone outside this facility. If you have problems you come to me or your superior, do not express these with others. Confidentiality is key here.”

He’s spoken for most of our walk, pausing when we reach what’s clearly a recreation room. He turns to us, studying our neutral faces. “Finally, thank you for your dedication and willingness to join us in Bhutan. We’re a relatively small crew and function a bit like a family. If you have a problem you must bring them to us. Bhutan can be a very pleasant or horrible experience depending if you want to work with us. Please don’t make it a horrible experience—it affects us all. As you may have noticed this is our recreational room. Dorms are down the hall on your right, cafeteria and med bay to your left. Use the rest of the day to get settled, report to your superior tomorrow at six hundred. Bashir, Gabale, Hernandez: any questions? Issues with expectations?”

None of us say anything and he grins. “Good. You’ll report to Commander Obe outside the cafeteria—he’ll guide you through your daily routine. Your dorm assignments are listed in the next hall. Take care, guys.”

I’m relieved Maks isn’t our superior. Dismissed, I follow my colleagues toward the dorm hall.

“Bashir.” Could he at least wait until I drop off my bag? I turn, doing my best to offer Maks a waiting expression. His chin tilts toward the other hall, though he’s already walking away to who knows where. “Visit med when you’re finished. Got a friend that wants to see you.”

My eyes narrow before I can stop it, lips pursing. I really want nothing to do with him. “Yes…sir.”

“You’ll thank me,” he insists, disappearing with the other comms. It makes me nervous until I put two and two together, rushing to the dorms first. I find my room pretty easily—it’s shared with two other girls it looks like—and drop my stuff off, removing my coat in the process.

Then it’s off to the med bay. I retrace my steps and race past the busy cafeteria, finding the bay just as easily as my room. Inside several people in white coats loaf about, clearly not being utilized at the moment. I spot Rey in the middle of them and pause in the doorway, waiting. She, like the others, glances up at me but unlike them she lets out a surprised shriek and jumps from her chair, tackling me in a hug. How can I not return the love?

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed, both of us jumping like idiots.

“You said you were in Calgary!” I shout back, laughing with her.

“Everyone says that,” she dismisses, holding me back to get a good look at me. “Jesus, you’re alive! And here!” Her face pales a second, sort of recovering. “Fuck…you’re _here_. Man, what happened? I haven’t heard from you since…well, before the south collapsed. God, I’m so sorry you were down there.”

I ignore the concern. Discussing Bogota unearths things that make my skin crawl. I smile and force her off the topic. “It’s fine. Just happy to be alive. Look at you though! You got picked for medical? Rey, that’s fantastic!”

Her head bobbles, moving me from the med bay to the hall, far from her peers. “It’s alright. Not really what I was expecting but better than what it could be.” She keeps checking me over. I know what she’s looking for but I don’t want to talk about it.

“I’m fine,” I tell her, hoping I won’t have to push much. “Really. Happy to be in…” I look around the hall then back to her, grinning. “Calgary.”

“They told you about that, right?” she wonders, leading me away from the halls I already know, toward a set of stairs leading down. There’s no one in the area. I nod complacently.

“Ye. Nothing exists, I was never here, don’t talk, etcetera. Man, I can’t believe I got sent here of all places. And you’re here! Ah! You know I was kicking myself when we left actual Calgary? Thought I’d missed a chance to connect but hey, lucky me getting sent here.”

Rey looks down the stairs, idly scratching her neck. “Yeah, it’s…man, you’ll get used to it. Everyone does.” She pauses, glances keenly at me. “You’re sure you’re fine? That was a—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I stress, and thankfully she gets the hint. My smile grows sly. “What I do want to talk about is you. Tell me everything that’s happened here, minus the sensitive bits.”

Taking a deep breath, she leans back and complies. “I told you I met Devin, didn’t I?”


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin's not as good at lying as she thinks she is.

Friday, December 3rd, 2055, Camp Bhutan

 

I think they made a mistake sending me here. It’s a relatively good one, but a mistake regardless.

My first few days in Bhutan are typical of anywhere, full of getting used to new rules and schedules, and learning their routines. We’re up at five every morning for mandatory exercise. We shower, eat and organize at six in the common hall. My team is essentially relegated to guarding the building for now, walking the perimeter for several hours in the morning in frigid temperatures. At noon we head in for lunch and a new guard takes over while my team is given some overview for our positions and news for an hour. We then watch over heavy doors a floor lower than the common one, staring hard at it until dinner. After that we have free time, for now—our shifts will change once we’re granted access to downstairs. We’ll likely get night shifts for the first few weeks.

Basically, I’ll be guarding prisoners, handing them food, that kind of business. I mean, I know why I’m here but I don’t think I’m the best candidate for being around the enemy.

There are few windows inside so I enjoy the time outside. It’s quiet. Very rarely do we see any movement and if we do it’s usually an animal. My team consists of me and my companions from Lagos, and a few more experienced veterans from other shifts. Given how big the premises are we rarely run into one another, too.

I kind of wish we could take watch later in the day too but instead we’re stuck inside, staring at that stupid door for what feels like forever. Nobody told us we can’t talk but we don’t do much of it anyway, nothing beyond learning where each of us is from and such. Injured in combat as well, Gabale is vaguely interested in my repairs and we trade stories over what was the easiest and worst to have fixed. I think he wins, a titanium plate fitting his skull sounding much more arduous than a couple doctors poking in my ears and a few rounds in a bone reparation chamber. Hernandez broke her hip falling in a blast but she says it wasn’t bad. We sound so modest, it’s weird.

We go off on a new topic, surveying one another over which base’s food we preferred (we must annoy the hell out of our teammates) and are deep in the nuances of what constitutes as ‘good’ when we’re relieved of our shift early, comm Basman rounding by the door and splitting us three from the others. I’m still wary of him but have lost my nerves, following him with the other two when he beckons us back upstairs. He never pays me any mind so I figure I’m in the clear. Rey says he’s gone distant since she arrived too, which she’s elated over.

He takes us to the med bay, monotonously explaining we don’t have current physicals on file. We line up outside the bay in alphabetical order. Lucky me, I go first, getting a quick but thorough exam from one of Rey’s superiors. By the time I’m showed out both the others are already in process, leaving me in the hall with Basman. He’s cooling his heels on the other side of the hall. I swallow my awkwardness and look at him, wondering what we’re supposed to do now.

“Rec time,” he mentions, nodding down the hall. “You’ve earned a state sponsored break.”

Is he trying to be funny? I nod, waiting by the door. “I’ll let the others know, sir.”

He pushes from the wall, stepping halfway across the hall, arms crossed. He looks so bored, like he’s pained to be here. “Already told them. Walk with me. I wanna talk to you one on one.”

Uh, no? Is he crazy? He must see my hesitation because he draws himself up, stretching. His eyes constantly flit up and down the hall, watching.

“You’re cleared for the lower levels,” he quietly informs me. “Take time tonight to prep, don’t overthink it.”

If he wants to talk shop that’s one thing. I step from the door, curious. “We’re going down tomorrow?”

“You are,” he clarifies, barely looking my way. “First in line for duty. Just a heads up.”

Awful nice of him to even offer. I nod, head imagining it must not be pretty if he wants to tell me. Morbid curiosity gets the better of me. “Just support, right? They wouldn’t—”

“No, you’re fine,” he quickly agrees before I finish. “Mostly observation. They may ask for ID on a few.”

I keep nodding, numb to the idea. If that’s what they want I’ll do my best. “Okay.” He eyes me so I add, “Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t even smirk. “You can handle it. Easy shit, just look past it.”

Now my gaze narrows. I said I understand. It doesn’t matter what I think. “Yes, sir.”

Pausing a moment he considers my frame, hands lowering to his hips. This suddenly feels very intimate. “Doing alright? Fitting in and all that bullshit?”

He speaks softly, in a tone he doesn’t use while working. If we weren’t alone I might keep my guard up but with a moment’s peace I look down, shrug. It’s fine here. Rey’s around; that brightens my mood considerably. She has nice acquaintances.

“Ye.”

His lips form a thin line, thinking. “Let me know if you have any problems. Singh’s all talk. Alright?”

He reached over and squeezes my shoulder, the most awkward squeeze I’ve ever had in my life. I roll it off, polite about the offer. “I’m fine.”

“Lie better or don’t say anything,” he advises, then heads off. I keep him in my peripheral until he turns a corner, giving my heart time to slow. When Gabale and Hernandez emerge from the med bay I walk with them back to the dorms, our conversation light.

I’m fine. I am. It could be so much worse. Besides, Rey keeps offering me downers to sleep. If I really needed something I’d go to her first.


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin's sent downstairs to identify prisoners. TW-torture.

Wednesday, December 1st, 2055, Camp Bhutan

Seven hits and I head down the stairs to the lower levels. It’s stark down here, sterile lighting and blank walls. Nothing about the lower levels has any distinguishable traits, no character. They believe in surveillance though, tract cameras at every interval.

On the second lower level I see why, halls lined with secure, soundproof doors. Each guards a minuscule cell and I only know this because I’ve been briefed—there are no windows to show me otherwise.

Several levels are like this. I’m given an informal tour on the way down, my teammates people I’ve never seen before and Maks. He treats me exactly as he treats all others, with very little personality. Today we are taking several prisoners from their cells to the investigation floor. What for and why I’m here isn’t explained and I’m not sure if Maks telling me about this stuff beforehand helps. It only serves to egg on my paranoia.

Yet it is comforting knowing he’s overseeing everything. It shouldn’t make a difference, honestly.

I lose track of where we are pretty quickly. We’re at least five floors below the door and so far it’s just us. Basman takes us through several more nondescript corridors to two adjacent rooms, splitting us up. Myself and another female are in the left and the others move into the right. He instructs us to wait where we are then takes another member to backtrack. We wait. In that time I’m told to observe what occurs through the room’s darkened window—the other room will soon hold prisoners and we’ll be identifying them. Other than that I’m to simply watch. They don’t expect me to know what to do yet. I tell myself this will be fine. All I’m doing is observing. They won’t know I’m here.

My stomach burns when Basman returns, a line of people in grey jumpsuits trailing his coworker, their heads bagged, wrists and ankles bound to one another via chains. It’s…alarming watching them file in to the other room, lining up against the wall, shackles secured to concrete. We can’t hear them, thankfully, and while they’re situated I look up at the ceiling. I don’t want to be here anymore, don’t want anything to do with this. Let me go back upstairs. My minder notices my behavior, chortling.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” she says. I think Basman called her ‘Miri’ once. “It’s your first time.”

She’s not making it any better. My eyes stay focused on cracks in the cement until she hands me a tablet and asks me to verify the prisoner on the far left of the lineup. I comply. It’s a heavier set man, his eyes ragged and wild once his hood is off. His beard is unkempt, indicating he’s been here a while. When he sees the blacked out glass before him he focuses on it, clearly yelling at us until Basman—

I look up again, waiting. I don’t want to see bruises on people’s faces.

“He look familiar?” Miri questions, calm. “We have evidence he was in a camp near yours. Could’ve moved between the two.”

I don’t know who he is but I’ve seen him. It takes another look to confirm it but his dazed, sweating look is something I recall.

“Others say he tortured several of your company,” she continues, neutral. “He was reckless with his rifle. Did you ever witness anything like that from him?”

My head shakes. I saw him once, I think, while he was on a walkthrough in camp. He was busy conversing with another captain. In that moment I’d lay woven with several unconscious soldiers, thinking if I kept still enough they wouldn’t notice me. They didn’t, not because I was lucky but because they were too busy to care about the hoard they’d brought from my camp. I saw him do nothing but walk, couldn’t have heard him even if I’d wanted to.

How does simply seeing him take me back to Colombia so easily? I inhale, exhale, repeat, then return my gaze to the ceiling. “No. He was speaking with someone else, another higher up. I didn’t see anything else.”

“Hear anything he—?”

“No,” I inform her before she keeps going. “But he was there.”

“Good,” she relents, nodding at the tablet. “Go ahead and check what applies then,”

I grudgingly lower my chin, ignoring the window and checking yes, I know this prisoner and yes he was present at specific locations. I sign at the bottom. When I’m finished she speaks into a link on her wrist indicating they move to their next prey. The first man’s hood is put back despite a minor struggle and the one in the middle is revealed.

He’s a firecracker compared to the previous one. He doesn’t look very similar but as he spits venom at the glass I can tell he’s from the other side. Basman doesn’t give him any warnings, quieting him the second he tries lunging forward.

“What about him?” wonders Miri, apparently amused I can’t look at him directly. If I do I might fall over. I’m dizzy already and don’t need to make it worse. That’s Don…Don something. I can’t remember what our superior called him but we’d seen his picture, knew he was on the other side of Bogota in a camp protecting Panama. I never saw him in person but tell her what I was told of the guy, checking what’s relevant on the tablet.

The third is a female and she doesn’t scream. Instead she fumes, glowering at the glass. Basman doesn’t touch her but I see he’s questioning her on his side. She doesn’t answer. I wouldn’t if I were her, either. I watched her round up trucks and trucks of us, giving orders and shooting stragglers who wouldn’t comply. She commanded the camp we’d been taken to. Despite the barrier I can’t look at her directly.

“She was a commander,” I tell Miri, giving what she wants before she even asks. “She was there. I saw her. She…she put down a lot of us.”

“You know any of her victims?”

Yes, but he was already dead. I put down what I can in the tablet. With them identified she speaks into her link again and all three have their hoods removed. Both men vehemently struggle, the girl keeping fairly reserved. Basman walks back and forth in front of them, monologuing from the look of it. His companions each guard a corner. When the girl does speak he nods as if he understands. When she grows agitated he steps in front of her. I look up, heart pulsing in my veins.

This is too familiar. I don’t want to be here. I make the mistake of glancing forward—he’s got her hood on, a hose harshly spraying the bag. A part of me scoffs, remembering Rey’s unease over her brother. He must get off on this. A reasonable person wouldn’t do that, occasionally blasting her compatriots straight on, red welts rising where water hits. A reasonable person wouldn’t hold them like…like terrorists.

It dawns on me this is why they’re so adamant on keeping quiet. How come it took so long for that to click?

This goes on for what feels like hours. I watch when I can but mostly memorize what the floor and ceiling look like. Basman rotates from water to other methods, things I usually shut my eyes for before he starts. He’s asking for information, that much I’m aware, but these three aren’t cracking. He rotates in a knife and gets at least the one called Don to confess something, sparing his ear. I want to retch. My stomach can’t handle when blood does flow. The floor in there must be a mess.

It gets to the point where he’s given some kind of instrument I can’t identify. All three of them appear panicked, puffy skin on their face and blood on the floor forgotten. I ask what that is, Miri calling it a torch. It doesn’t look like a ‘torch’ in my opinion but I’ve heard of it in Bogota. The look on their faces unsettles me.

I stand up from my chair, retreat to the back of the room, nose against the wall. Everything about me is shaking, realizing my naivety too late. How could I let someone like Basman touch me, ever? How could they send me here? They said they’d take my captivity into consideration, not exploit it.

“I need to leave,” I abruptly tell Miri, heading for the door. She doesn’t address me until I jiggle the handle, frustrated it’s locked.

“Sit on the floor,” she calmly advises, like I’m the one causing a scene, not them. “Head to your knees. Remember, they’ve committed great crimes against your own.”

I get that, and if I wasn’t stuck watching torture I’d be agreeing they deserve it, too. Yet in this moment I’m feeling their pain, recalling what it’s like in their position. They can at least hear themselves. I don’t even remember what I surely screamed at interrogators in Bogota.

But I sit on the floor, do as she says. These feelings dissipate, replaced with a buzzing headache. Eventually she summons me to my feet. In the other room the prisoners have their hoods on, Basman’s team soberly unchaining them from the wall and pushing them out. He stays behind, mockingly waving goodbye. Once they’re gone he speaks into the link on his wrist, Miri replying in quiet, one-worded answers.

Their conversation is short. Basman leaves his room and we leave ours. I meekly follow Miri, head down.

“Give it time,” she says to him, joining him on the walk down the hall. I keep my distance, Basman’s stained uniform too much to handle. He walks like he doesn’t notice, or care. “They always pull this crap.”

He doesn’t argue, thinking instead. “They connect with the one from last week. I think we’re getting somewhere.”

The fact he doesn’t pay me any attention is best. I do like he advised and keep my mouth shut, trailing them to a room on the other side of the floor full of old cabinets. Several desks are piled high with paperwork. It all looks rather rudimentary. Both congregate around one desk, mumbling to one another. I watch the door, sweating bullets. In my head I’m in Bogota, the air stifling. My ears are ringing again, the sky lighting up above us every few steps. The drone strike’s failed, help isn’t coming, not tonight anyway.

“Bashir.” I blink, twist to the others. Basman’s staring at me.

“Yes, sir.”

“Which camp were they at?”

“Manzinoles, sir,” I recite, aware I was picked up there. “I can’t confirm Don was there.”

“You were just held there?” he wants to know. Has he not seen my records? Since I can’t lie well I don’t answer. He nods, indicating that’s enough, and the two mumble together again. My fears eventually quell, replaced with boredom. It’s the first time I’m truly grateful for the feeling in here.

Soon enough their discussion ends. They sign a report and make me sign it, too. I don’t bother reading what it is, sure it won’t matter. My link states we’ve already moved into the afternoon by the time they file it. We move into the hall once more. I assume we’re done for the day but that isn’t the case, both guiding me to a post on the first floor of the prison. Here, I’m told, I’ll be standing guard until shift change. Miri loans me her rifle and instructs me to shoot any inmate without a guard. Essentially I’m doing the same thing I was doing upstairs. It’s better than watching torture.

I eagerly accept the change, relieved when they leave me alone in the stark, grey hall. Cameras idly race up and down the hall on their track, always on the lookout in case I’m incompetent but I take my task seriously, eyes vigilant.

The afternoon drags on forever. No one passes through, leaving me to my own bored thoughts. Those obviously grow anxious the longer I’m alone, sure I’ve been forgotten about or they’re doing this on purpose, toying with me. It’s got to be on purpose. They’re testing me, pushing to see what my breaking point is. I’m no stranger to the tactic, I ignore the cloying feeling of being watched, push it off until the corners of the hall darken, closing in. My breath quickens, gets my nerves jumping. I think too much about being underground, convince myself something’s wrong with being here.

But it’s not, none of my thoughts are coming from a good place. It can’t be helped. If the door behind me ever opens or someone actually does pass through it might actually push me over the edge no matter how much I coach myself everything’s fine.

No one ever does come through though, not until seventeen hundred when my shift ends and I’m relieved by another soldier I don’t know. I head back to the dorms without incident. Rey meets me for dinner, both of us quiet. Several days ago she admitted she was glad I hadn’t come here with her. Today I understand why she didn’t want me here. I don’t want her here, either.


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin attempts negotiation with Basman.

Monday, December 13th, 2055, Camp Bhutan

Canadian winters are no joke. I haven’t been outside or seen real sun for weeks. Everything here is artificial, indoor plants becoming little havens of peace for our team. The facility is currently buried in snow, and we are buried in work. Rey, I’ve learned through careful listening, assists her superiors in keeping prisoners alive, and spends too much of her time downstairs. I do the same guarding empty halls, but our paths never cross. We’re always down in claustrophobic spaces, impatiently waiting until our shifts end and we can emerge upstairs, but even then we don’t see each other much. Whereas she has a day shift, my newness forces me into odd shifts. No day is the same but the location always is.

Sometimes I observe prisoners being questioned, other days I hand out food through small slits in their cell doors. I’m never not guarding. It’s better, I guess, than active combat.

Rey thinks I should talk to the on-site counselor, to which I suggest she do the same, so we both end up not going. I don’t want to share my feelings to anyone but her, I know they’re wrong. But…she’s right. I need to convince someone I can’t keep going down into the prison. Someone must understand this isn’t doing me any favors.

I spend the majority of my shift on guard duty but am called in for an interrogation with Hernandez. Like me she holds back during these times, Basman’s tactics a little too familiar to our psyches. He’s good at what he does; gets answers pretty easily once someone’s properly coerced. He’s not doing this investigation however, leaving it to his cronies to get what they want.

We must be weak— _I_ must be weak. No matter how many times I observe I can’t stomach it. Guarding is fine. Actually seeing prisoners is something else. Too many carry some sort of familiarity, a lot pulled from Bogota right after their victory, when we pushed back hard and ended up taking a good chunk of their local leadership. Hernandez sees the familiarity, too, eyes always so wide whenever we leave the floor. Gabale does better. He plays into what I think they want from us. He angers upon seeing the enemy, providing as much information as he can. He starts entering the other room with Basman’s team, ready for payback. Even today he’s in there, taking shots where he can. I want to be brave like him but know I…can’t.

I need to talk to someone, someone who can get me out of interrogation. Singh won’t help, Rey’s already reinforced the idea that his version of help isn’t what I’m looking for. He’ll send me to their counselor. With all that time to myself as a guard I’ve been scheming and I finally decide who to seek out by the time the interrogation is over that afternoon. It’s a gamble though, they scare me the most.

Rey told me not to do it, but she still told me which room Maks occupies in the staffing dorm. I head there immediately once I’m free of the prisoner levels, breathing a bit easier now that I’m closer to the surface. Since he wasn’t at the interrogation overnight it’s assumed he had a day shift. My hope is I’ll catch him before he heads to exercise and breakfast, if he’s even there. If not I’ll be off to bed to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling until my next shift.

Rey keeps grabbing sedatives for me, insisting I use them. I think she feels guilty for my being stuck here but it’s not her fault. That’s mine, no one else’s. I have a nice stash of them squirreled away by now just in case but can’t fathom trying them. The day they had me start in the prison is the day I started sleeping truly horribly, my previous nightmares incomparable to these. Dreams of a blood filled Bogota flood me every single time I shut my eyes. In the lower levels I see people too close to the enemy, begin convincing myself they know who I am. Everything reminds me of captivity, chews at my paranoia.

It’s just before five when I sneak into the staffing wing, using the security code Rey gave me. If I was using this for any other reason than to get out of interrogation I’d feel so horrible. I kind of feel that way regardless.

His door’s easy to find, situated at the end of a quiet hall. It won’t be quiet long so I take my chance and pray he meant what he said about helping out. When I knock I realize too late how stupid I must be seeking him out this way but I’ve been up for several days, thoughts growing uglier by the minute. As of today I’m convinced the prisoners can see through that window and know who’s ratting them out, confirming their involvement. They’re going to figure out how to get me sooner or later, figure out I deliver their food sometimes. The number of ways I’ve imagined being shanked from their cell door openings amazes even me.

Basman’s door opens before I can back out and run away. He looks at me a second, then out across the rest of the hall.

“You just get off?” His morning voice is slow, soft. I nod and he sighs. “This gonna take long?”

I shake my head and get straight to the point. “How do I move out of interrogation?”

He’s trying to wrap his head around that, brow slowly lowering. He looks down the hall again, then opens the door wider, beckoning me in. “Come in.”

I stay right where I am. No way I’m going in the room of a guy I’ve watched knock someone’s teeth out. “I’ll do anything else, whatever is needed, but it’s…” Blinking, I fight to keep my composure. Seeing I probably won’t finish he motions me in again.

“Get in here. Let’s talk.”

“Just talking,” I quietly insist, still rooted to the spot.

His eyes roll, agreeing to the condition. Sighing he adds, “God, you act like I’m gonna tear you apart. Get in here before someone sees you.”

I slide past him, right into a modestly spaced dorm. He shuts the door, fumbling for the overhead lights. He instructs me to sit so I do, perching at the edge of his bed while he pulls on a shirt.

“Rey give you the code?” he wonders, head bobbing when I confirm that’s the case. “Fuck, of course. Okay. So you don’t want to do interrogation. You know that’s why you’re here, right?”

“Ye,” I quietly acknowledge, gaze set on the floor. “I know. I get it.”

“So what’s wrong with it?” he demands. He’s not much of a morning person, focused on one thing at a time. “You’re doing fine.”

Fine? I look up at him, offended. “They know who I am. They’re going to kill me soon as they can.”

He laughs before he can stop himself, flashing an amused grin. “Who?”

“The inmates,” I whisper, aware it sounds ridiculous. This only serves to make him laugh harder.

“Edin, you’re in charge, not them. How long have you been up?”

Two days, I think. I can’t take the sedatives Rey keeps offering. I answer before he thinks I’m lying. “I’m sleeping fine.”

“Right.” Scratching his head he sighs, lowering to the floor to put on socks. “Give it time, get more sleep. Nobody’s plotting against you.”

“You don’t know that,” I argue, political barriers gone. Nobody gets it and if he doesn’t a counselor’s not going to, either. “You weren’t there.”

“Damn straight I wasn’t,” he idly remarks, leaning back on his palms. “So enlighten me. Just because you were you think they’ll remember you from thousands of others? Why?” I refuse to answer that so he continues. “Hernandez and Gabale already had this same chat with our counselor. Sure you don’t want—?”

“Nope,” I firmly refuse, heart jumping, realizing I’ve gone to the wrong person. I get up, ready to go. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Hold on,” he discourages, taking his time getting up, smirk unreadable. “Look, you’re not getting out of duty, but maybe we could…fuck, I dunno, you want to do reporting? Still have to observe interrogations but it’s the only place they’d see you. I know Miri hates doing it.”

It’s an option, sure, but it’s not what I want. I may be more picky than I let on. He watches me thinking, slowly drawing to the door with me. The hand he lowers onto a shoulder makes me want to cringe but I’m too preoccupied to care.

“Baby, I’ve seen your records,” he softly states. “I know, all the other sups know, it’s not a big fucking deal. Don’t wanna talk to a counselor, fine, then talk to Rey. You’re not the only one feeling this shit.”

Unless he’s trying to be sexy or intimidating he’s not the most eloquent, I’ve noticed. It gets a slight smile from me, encouraging him. “Or, if you’re not into talking and maybe want…other distractions, I’m good at that.”

“This is business,” I rebuke, unsure if I mean it. I lean against the door, tired thoughts split between leaving or…continuing this, whatever it is.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he protests, suddenly very close. It catches me off guard, something awakening in my belly. I consider, cheeks flushing.

“Rey would kill me.”

“You’ve kept it secret before,” he points out, unhelpful. “Could pick up right where we left off.”

Why is that so appealing? I shiver, loopiness getting to me. “But…”

He unsubtly pulls my hip to his, coming on very strong. “It’s not like we have all the time in the world. Can’t do much anyway, but…you know…could fool around. Could take your mind off everything.”

That sounds great but I’m reminded of his work when his hands circle my waist, squeezing through my uniform to find soft flesh. It’s a lot harder separating him from his role when I have to work under him a good portion of the time. He could probably kill me with his bare hands but…he won’t. I’m not the enemy. At least, I hope that’s how his brain works. I’ve seen him do a lot…a lot of questionable things. Witnessed awful acts by his whole team, my own team.

“You scare me a little,” I admit, forcing myself to be honest. I know it’ll feed his ego. It does, the smile on his lips growing. He ducks his head, breath soft on my neck.

“In a good or bad way?”

I swallow, tired eyelids fluttering. “Both.”

He faintly laughs, amused, lower lip brushing over my earlobe. “I think I like that. Do you?”

I can’t not smile, allowing him to pull me closer. This is the game. I almost forgot about it, almost, but it’s been kicking around my thoughts lately, an uncomfortable reminder when he pops up in the facility at random in the same places as me. I can’t say a small part of me didn’t want this meeting ending up this way.

I nod, growing increasingly submissive. It appeases him, makings my heart lurch with anticipation, and before I know it he’s scooped me up. He hauls me to bed, dropping me in unmade sheets. I giggle, keenly watching him while he hops up, knees trapping mine and looming over me. Shoulders dipping, his mouth finds mine, trying to consume me. I let him, relaxing into his bed with an ease I don’t think I’ve felt in months.

The things refusing to leave my mind disappear, at least for the moment, happy to let him try yanking off my clothes instead. He doesn’t get far (it’s too time consuming) but he does succeed in coercing sweet sounds from me, fingers roving over places he knows I enjoy. In between kisses he manages pulling my hair loose, always interested in reducing my rigidness. He pulls back to admire his work, apparently satisfied judging by the smug expression. I stretch my back, wishing I had my clothes off.

“Take a shower,” he advises, nodding at the small washroom connected to his room. His eyes stay on me even as he tears away from bed, busily pulling on running shoes, gaze always coming back to me. “Make yourself comfortable—sleep, maybe. Might help, baby. I’ll come back in a couple hours, sneak you out so nobody sees.”

I flash my biggest smile his way, boots already half off. “Yes sir.”

He pauses, lust invading his grin, turning it deviant. Taking the three of four steps to bed he leans over again, offering another long kiss. I moan into his mouth, enjoying his taste. Breaking off just as abruptly he forces himself to get going.

“Stay,” he cautions again, hand on the door. “Go out now and there’s probably enough people you’ll land in trouble. Besides, I’m gonna fuck you when I get back.”

Arms over my head I beam. That filth is music to my ears.


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin successfully negotiates and earns Maks' undivided attention. TW:sex, roughness, consensual choking (I hate that I have to say that)

XX December 13th, 2055

A couple hours come and go. I tried staying awake but his bed’s comfier than mine, room quieter too. After a shower I can’t help dozing off. My dreams are as volatile as I knew they’d be, Bogota’s rancid corpses and streets forming a hellish background for situations I know would never occur there. Sometimes the enemy finds me within the maze of broken concrete, sometimes I find them on accident. Sometimes they’re faceless, other times prisoners I’ve seen recently.

Despite that I only startle awake when the door shuts, forgetting where I am a second and pushing upright in a tangle of sheets. It takes another second to recognize Maks at the door, frozen, a smile forming on his lips. He’s in different clothes than when he left. I check a clock on his wall, surprised it’s almost dinner. In several more hours I have to be back downstairs, handing out dinner to…prisoners, again.

“I’ll do reports,” I volunteer, voice cracking from disuse. His smile softens. He moves from the door, kicking off boots and tossing off a jacket in his wake.

“Give it a few days,” he finally says, link coming off and set on his desk. “Miri will show you what to do. That all you thought about today?”

“No,” I correct, running a hand through my hair. “I…slept, I think.”

Coming over he tousles my hair too. “Good. Still think they wanna kill you?”

I shouldn’t have told him about that. Quiet, I fall back to the mattress, yawning. He glances at the door and then to me, pleased to see my skin. Our silence continues until he lowers next to me, legs stretching out over the sheets.

“Would’ve woken you earlier,” he remarks, lying back and turning to me, “but you were out.”

On my side I fit to his chest, enjoying when he pulls me the rest of the way, embrace tight. I like it much better when we’re not discussing work related things.

“But now we only have a couple hours,” I point out, kisses upon my crown distracting. His fingertips trail down my spine, breath warm in my hair.

“That’s plenty of time. I could do all kinds of things with you in a couple hours.”

I’m sure he could but I still haven’t eaten, still haven’t shown up for exercise. The logistics of sneaking around haven’t been figured out yet. But…that’s the best part, the excitement of the unknown.

Humming, Maks’ palm cups my ass, squeezing hard. “Mm. I had a long day, baby. I know exactly how I want to end it. You in?”

He doesn’t have to ask but I appreciate the reminder, understand he wants to play. It’s not really something he ever discussed in Istanbul; I just picked up on it, figured it out on the way. I nod my head, compliant, small. “Yes, sir.”

“God you’re so cute,” he murmurs in approval, a leg pulling over mine. His fingers run the curve of my hip, coursing all the way to my jaw and tilting my head to obtain a kiss. With sleep still on my mind I melt and do like he wishes, allowing him to maneuver me as he sees fit.

It’s harder to do this time around, my instincts telling me to fight, but why? He likes being in control and I…I like the domination. It suffocates my inhibitions.

I enjoy when he pulls my arms above my head, securing my wrists with a stray shirt. My back arches when he rids my legs of the sheets, knees shyly coming together, just like my feet. I study his face as he works, stomach fluttering. His focus is deviant, intent. It matches mine. I’m quivering, forgetting there’s an entire facility right outside the door.

“Still afraid of me?” he wonders, pushing my knees apart, jaw loose as he admires my slit. He’s still half dressed. I contemplate the question, shiver when his hands circle my thighs, pulling me to him. Part of me imagines him tearing my legs apart; the rest of me can definitely envision his head lowering, tongue parting my labia. The fluttering in my stomach deepens.

“A little,” I whisper, heart pounding. His eyebrows raise, somehow intrigued to hear it.

“I don’t believe that, baby. If you were scared you wouldn’t be here. Maybe I haven’t scared you enough.”

My chest swells in anticipation, hoping he does just that. I want to see what he’s teased, want to know what he’s capable of. He’s never given me reason to think I won’t enjoy whatever he has in mind. You know, all four times we managed to make a connection.

Yet here I am, stupidly asking for whatever he’s offering. I want it, want him, never want to leave this bed for as long as I’m stuck here.

Looming over me he pauses, fingertips digging into my skin. “You are, aren’t you? God, baby, relax. You’re tense.”

Am I? I thought I was relaxed. My muscles loosen, impatiently watching him, lip sucked between my teeth in a needy pout. It encourages him, his lust. My hips are lifted, rising from the bed until my legs hook over his shoulders. I can’t help sighing, my thoughts coming to fruition. His cheeks press against my thighs, breath hot on my lips, my sigh developing into a moan. Wasting no time his tongue parts through delicate flesh, eagerly searching for and finding my clit. He pays it heavy attention, uttering a soft laugh the more I squirm.

Stuck as I am my legs twitch uncontrollably. His grip tightens in a warning but I can’t help it, not when his teeth graze that little nub. How does he expect me to keep quiet, keep still? Maybe that’s the point. He laps at me and I keep moaning, unsure what else to do. It works, convincing him to try something else.

“Too much?” he taunts, brazenly pulling me onto his lap, my legs keenly crossing behind his back. One of his palms props my back up, pressing me to his chest, the other getting my bound hands behind his neck. It’d be easier if I could move but he’s not interested in easy. He doesn’t want me using them.

I nod quickly, determined to play along. He’s pleased with himself, ducking to catch my mouth with his. I can taste myself on his tongue, the idea making my legs squeeze tighter. Both his hands rove up and down my torso, one ensuring I’m still and the other exploring my ass, grabbing by the handful. He grips so hard I yelp, spine arching. My chin is grasped, cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. He holds me that way until I look at him, trying and failing to pull away.

“Shh,” he firmly commands, still kneading my ass. It makes my insides ache, all sorts of conflicted. I can’t help whimpering, subtly shifting in his lap. He smiles at my discomfort, letting go and giving my rear a harsh slap instead. I yelp again despite his hold on my cheeks and that look of pure lust comes over him, lids lowering. Tilting my head his mouth dips to my neck, teeth dragging along my collarbone. I shudder, body unable to relax while he nuzzles soft flesh.

Normally he’d be moving right along but he’s taking his time, hesitating. My tongue leaves my mouth, gently tasting the thumb pressing into my cheek, exploring what he wants. He uses that as an opportunity to let that thumb slide between my lips, encouraging me to suck it. I do. He hums praise, leaving a trail of kisses up and over my brow.

“I wanna fuck you,” he whispers, gaze drowsily searching my eyes. “Mm, let me have all of you, baby, you’ll feel so good giving in. I wanna fuck you on your back, wanna see that pretty little face.”

He doesn’t need to tell me, I’d go along with it regardless. I’m nodding with his words, allowing him to push me backward, falling right over me so he can keep his mouth on me. He ducks beneath my arms, finding my breasts, sucking each one to attention. I know I’m blushing, cooing, anticipating more. My focus becomes him, unwilling to miss whatever he gives.

Pleased I’m so compliant he pulls away, finally unbuckling his belt and pants. His cock is pulled out, pulsing over me as he strokes himself. Chest rising and falling with each breath his jaw hangs slightly, lost in his own thoughts.

“Relax,” he mumbles, tip of his cock slapping over my labia, “and let me take you, baby.”

It calms me, convincing my arms to stretch further overhead, lips pouting. It’s the stupidest thing but it makes me feel like a pinup model. He makes me feel that way.

His cock pushes through, a secretive grin pulling on his lips. He looks up at me when it’s buried, reaching down to cup a breast, thumbs gliding over the peak. It keeps going, his hand coming to rest at the base of my throat. I go still. He’s not pressing hard but it catches me off guard. It moves on, running over my cheek and into my hair. Lowering to his elbows he covers me, mouth sucking on the spot he just touched.

When his hips roll his teeth bare on my neck. I tilt my head back just like my eyes roll, body reveling in his closeness. Moving up he bites down on my shoulder, tongue lathing the flesh, cock plunging in and out, picking up a stronger stroke. It’s divine, my core stretched tight, something it hasn’t had in a long time. I let him pull me tight, somehow getting a hand under my ass to bring me closer. It works, cock hitting a sweet spot within me and destroying any residual self-consciousness. My eyes shut and I turn to him, begging for kisses until he delivers, tongue immediately searching for mine. It’s overwhelming, bringing me on a higher plane.

I don’t mind when he grabs my ass tight, shudder in delight when he sucks on my tongue, cock a continuous rhythm in me. His weight feels so good, keeping me grounded. My skin’s damp on his, a sensual friction between us.

He pulls on my hair, breath heavy on me, then pries his torso from mine. I’m gasping, anxious for him to come back but he grabs my hips, holding me in place until he finds his knees. Face unreadable he takes turns with my breasts, roughly handling each. It’s not exactly painful but it’s not comfortable, either. I find myself whining, panting heatedly when he pulls on the peaks. He administers harsh slaps, absorbed in their movement, a constant rumble emanating from his chest while his thrusts slow, become more forceful. My heart’s beating nervously, fear getting to me. He could hurt me if he really wanted to yet…that idea turns me on. My chest buzzes warmly. My back remains arched best I can, still rocking in time with him. I can feel tension building within me, trying to break out. It needs out but he’s going too slow, deliberately teasing me.

“Not yet, baby,” he ruggedly purrs, denying me, hunching until he gathers my neck in one hand again. I give off the same reaction as before, going completely limp when his grip tightens. It doesn’t take much, my throat constricting. I’m at his mercy now, and I know…have already learned, lust has no mercy.

I’m caught up in his needy gaze. He’s picking up his pace again, uttering filth beneath his breath, working himself up while I obediently lay beneath him. My heart’s pounding in my ears, head growing light. He doesn’t let up, glazed eyes crinkling when he smiles, clearly reaching euphoria. His strokes are shorter, quicker, more intense. Everything about me enjoys such juxtaposition between denial and pleasure.

His cock tightens within me, feels like it swells. Maks is gasping, muscles hardening as he bears down, still pumping into me even as he comes. His grip on my throat does the same, painful yet…bearable. My eyelids flutter, my own wave rising via the quick hits. I’ve never felt like this before.

The second he lets up on my neck his attention draws to my clit, furiously toying with it in between his last few thrusts. I gasp in air, whole body filling with both life and ecstasy. My skin’s on fire, tingling with sensitivity, and his thumb’s strokes bring a whimper to my lips. I have to lower my hands, have to hold myself when I come, all sorts of emotions flooding through my veins. Uttering faint praise he lowers over me, grabbing my wrists, giddily kissing my knuckles.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxes, enjoying my cries, my body euphorically shuddering. I’ve never, never felt these things before, not even with him. Just…it keeps going. I’m still gasping, still choking out moans in between. His ministrations slow, pressure kept on my spasming clit.

When the sensation does dissipate, drowning to my fuzzy limbs, he calmly pulls out of me, always sure to keep some kind of contact, lips touching several spots. He smiles when I go limp, taking his time lying down next to me. He doesn’t speak and neither do I, electing to curl up instead. It must be cute; he sighs and sets an arm over me, drawing me to him. I can hear his heart still pounding, the sound calming, restorative. The room quiets, leaving us as we are, tangled together.

For a second, I forget there’s anything beyond him.


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Maks may not have come for Edin at all.

Thursday, March 13th, 2059

 

My stovetop sizzles, the smell of eggs nauseating at the moment. I’m unsure what else to do besides make breakfast. I offered to pick something up from down the block but Maks doesn’t want me going anywhere, so…here we are. He’s hunched over the bar, a hand grabbing his hair in frustration, the other scrolling through my phone. On the other side of the island I monitor both the eggs and him, my mouth shut tight.

I don’t know what to tell him. After showering he asked again who’s responsible for the breach. I told him the same as before which earned a fuck in the shower. The same occurred later in the kitchen when I tried convincing him to at least sit down and get out of my way. He took my phone at some point, settling down with that so I let him keep it, relieved he thinks he’s doing something important.

This isn’t a movie; there’s nothing important on there. If I had a link that might be more useful but I don’t, courtesy of the state.

“Who’s Ali?” he grunts, apparently reading through my messages. I pour a handful of chopped peppers into the skillet, prepared to give him all kinds of useless information. It’s a distraction from the truth.

“A friend. He covers my shifts sometimes.”

If he actually read my messages he’d know but he’s skimming, I’m sure of it. He grunts again, moving on.

“Tamlin?”

“My boss.”

He asks about several other contacts, all of them normal. I think he’s disappointed, honestly. I finish cooking, pouring half and half into two bowls. He said he didn’t want any but he’s slowly drinking the espresso he also refused, too. Setting it by him I meander to the windows with my bowl, lowering to the ground, crossing my legs, looking to the city below. I know he won’t let me leave right now but it doesn’t feel too cloying. It’s understandable, warranted.

“The number that called this morning,” he brings up from the kitchen, tone guarded. “Who is it? They’ve called….every day.”

I take a bite, silent on the subject. It’s a reminder call, a nudge from the state to check in. Miss too many of those and someone shows up at the door with false concern. It ties me to my phone, a tracker for my location and a way to get in contact should I ever be required.

“Edin,” he prompts, waiting. Stretching my spine I shrug.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not what you want.”

My track record for honesty gives him good reason to doubt that but it’s the truth. I don’t want to discuss being kept like a pet. It’s humiliating.

A couple minutes pass, both of us quiet. I focus my attention on the park below my building, wondering why cop cars still roam the block. Paranoia tells me it has something to do with Maks but I don’t ask.

Soon enough he huffs in contempt, slamming something down on the counter. “You’re tracked?”

He apparently called the number back and received the automated recording. Finishing the rest of my breakfast I stand up, turning to study his disgusted face. “Thanks for doing my check-in.”

“They wouldn’t,” he denies, lip curled. It’s my turn to huff.

“What, you thought they sent me off with bags of cash and said adios? I’m their property, Maks.”

He doesn’t bring the phone up after that, but now that he has my attention he hops off the barstool, casually swaggering my way. I vaguely wonder if he thinks I’ve poisoned his food but he wouldn’t drink coffee if he did. Besides, I’m eating the same thing. No, he wouldn’t think that. I’m assuming things for him, trying to read him for no reason.

“So you work for the state,” he muses, sidling next to me, looking to the park as well. “Impressive. I thought after everything you said they might just toss you out a plane over the Atlantic.”

“Lucky for you they didn’t,” I snap, irritation getting the better of me. I can be patient. I can weather a lot of things but he’s poking at something I don’t want to talk about even more than what he’s come for and he knows it. He smirks, nodding in agreement.

“Incredibly.” One hand lowers to brush his knuckles over my hip. “You must know all sorts of sensitive information.”

He wants something, wants to use my position for personal gain. Part of me desperately wants to help without even knowing what he needs, the rest certain it won’t end well. This is a dangerous idea harboring him here, but I don’t think I’d let him leave, either. I don’t want him gone. I just…don’t want us here.

“Edin,” he lightly presses, hand finding mine, pulling me to him. “I could get you out of here. Whatever they promised I can double.”

Not true. Well, in certain terms, sure, but not a real life. Not a regular job, not a nice home, certainly no money. We’re bleeding the responsible parties dry of any cash and resources they have left.

I lean into him, cheek pressed to his chest. He feels so good. “You can help me about as much as I can help you.”

“More than you know,” he offers, kneading my neck. “Baby…all you gotta do is tell me. I can make this worthwhile.”

He already has. Simply seeing him, touching him, breathing him…it verifies I made the best decision.

“Have you been home since…?”

His grip stiffens. “No. Can’t.”

“Where did you go then?”

A long sigh escapes his lips and he reaches for my ass, pulling at my panties. He knows how to distract me too well. “You ask so many questions and answer very little. How do I know you won’t tell your new owners everything?”

“I don’t talk,” I swear, getting a scoff out of him. He lowers his head, dipping until he finds my face, fixing me with a knowing look.

“The problem,” he breathes, “is I know you do. I’m getting impatient, baby. You talk to everyone else, don’t you? You think you’re doing the right thing, hm? God, we taught you well.”

They did, but I’ve learned more since. He can threaten what he likes, he’s not learning the truth from me. Unsure how much longer it’ll work I push against his thigh, tilting my chin to place a kiss along his jaw. His chest fills with a rumble, easily stroking up my back until I’m flush with him. His mouth finds mine, lips soft, parting mine and eagerly exploring. He tastes like expensive espresso, just the way I like it.

Very quickly he lowers to his knees and I straddle his lap, feverishly returning everything he offers. He bites my lip, faintly laughing when I whine. His hands push under my thin shirt, grabbing at my chest, pinching where he sees fit. I grind against him, arms wrapping around his neck, coaxing him to keep going. He does, knocking me on my back, gaze distant when he moves over me, hands splayed on either side, consuming me like I need resuscitation. Maybe I do.

I’m pulling on his shirt, desperate to get it off, to see skin I haven’t felt in years. He pries my pesky hands off, catching my wrists together. I don’t have that privilege, not when I’m not providing answers. Swiftly pulling back he eyes my needy figure, chest heaving, begging for the rest of him.

“Please,” I pant, doing everything I can think to entice him. “Please fuck me. I need you.”

“I know, baby,” he answers, hoarse, gaze constantly moving. “I know. But…I need you more.”

That doesn’t make sense. I go along with it regardless, anticipation rising when he lifts the hem of his shirt. His muscles flinch while it’s pulled off. My eyes take in every inch of battered, olive skin, unsure if I remember him looking this way. He rarely took off his clothes if he could get away with it, never offered an explanation. Several tattoos wrap around his side, dates. One of them is recent, from last year. Aware I’m staring he stretches, looks to the glass, at anything that’s not me.

My body grows cold, dread filling my veins. A tentative hand draws to his ribs, fingers running over a familiar birthday, the new date less familiar but making more sense now.

“No.” I can’t believe I’m even saying anything, pushing upright, staring openly. “No. No!”

“Stop,” he cautions, grasping my wrists again. “Edin, I couldn’t—”

“You swore,” I accuse, yanking my arms away. “You said you’d never—!”

I bite my tongue, can’t finish without crying. He’d sworn she would be okay, made the biggest deal about keeping her out of harm’s way. I’d thought…

His fingers wrap around my elbow before I can get away, holding me where I am. He looks past my watery eyes, intent on keeping my attention. When I try to move he jerks me still. This is serious.

“I need you,” he stresses, tone low, lethal. “Be my in, Edin. I need to know who killed Rey, need to find them.”

He’s going to find out. I try not to cry, nod my agreement without fully thinking it through. He’s going to find out what happened but it won’t be from me. Death complicates the truth.

I rub my free hand over a cheek and look to the carpet, hardening residual emotions, bringing back my guard. He never came for me, never came because he thought anything of me. Everything he’s said so far was to get to this point. I’ll tell myself that until I believe it, I have to. This is more important than me.

“I’ll get you to them,” I agree, voice soft. I don’t know how yet but I will. I think I already know who he is, too.


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin's not the only one trading coping for work.

Wednesday January 5th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

The days start flying, blending together. We push into the new year with no end in sight. Bogota still belongs to the enemy, their resistance crawling across the Americas in sporadic hits. Our efforts in Bhutan aren’t for naught—we’ve captured a good many comms and sergeants, our prison filling steadily thanks to information we’ve beat out of captives.

I tell my mom everything’s great.

My shifts become more normal, rotating to mostly day hours for at least half my shifts. I make it a point to see Rey more, the two of us sharing near everything with one another. Despite the things we see our sanity slowly recuperates, willfully ignorant of our situation. The boy she’s been messaging, Devin, is what’s really keeping her grounded. I’m not much help, agreeing with her bitter dissertations about this being a lost cause but he is, encouraging her to think positively. If it rubbed off I haven’t felt it yet.

She notices my neutral chill, too, teases if I’ve met someone but I tell her only in my dreams. It’s sort of true. I don’t feel like Maks is the same person I see some days downstairs. He enjoys eating me out and slapping my ass so hard it leaves marks. Basman willingly draws blood downstairs, breaks noses and other bones on a whim. How I differentiate between the two I don’t know but I continually look the other way.

He jokes it’s because I’m a slut for his cock—I’m beginning to think I’m just fucked up, craving things my mind can’t think up on it’s own. Honestly though, I sleep better after seeing him.

Rey isn’t stupid. We’re eating breakfast after the new year when she starts asking me more direct questions, things I can’t blame her for noticing. She’s careful about it, too, sneaky. We _were_ talking about the last magazine we found and ripped through when she casually mentions I should probably change my (admittedly unstylish) shirt, something that might better cover me up. At first I don’t know what she means but Maks did get a bit rough last night, and I know from my mirror he left marks. I find it hot—she probably doesn’t.

I zip up my collar, pretend my face isn’t red with embarrassment. “Right. I’ll get something else on before heading down.”

Her head lowers, eyeing me until I look at her. When did she become my mom? “You’re not—they’re not making _you_ do it, are they?”

She means interrogation. I quickly scoff, shaking my head. “No. No, no, no. I might bawl in front of, you know, them.”

“Then what’s going on?” she hisses across our table brows raised. “Dude, you look like you got in a fight—you don’t fight. I do that shit.”

She’s not wrong about that. My heart’s pounding. I feel like she’s interrogating me now. Picking at my food I shrug. “It’s nothing, I swear.”

“Edin.”

“It’s not,” I insist, careful not to look at her. “Look, it’s not what you think, I promise.”

“What do you think I think?” she demands, refusing to drop it. “Do they make you touch them?”

My eyes roll, wondering how to distract her. I hope she means inmates, not something else. “Sometimes. Can we talk about something else? I promise, _promise_ you, I would tell you if someone’s beating me up.”

“You better,” she grumbles, stabbing at her plate. “Start wearing turtlenecks and shit and I’m going to get even snoopier. Whatever you’re doing you better knock it off.”

I make a mental note to tell Maks to keep it out of sight, strangely disappointed.

After breakfast I head downstairs, working on observations and their following reports. This morning Gabale headed his own investigation on a comm from the east. He’s good at it, following in Basman’s steps with ease. He’s able to get people talking, though when I do my reports the information gleaned doesn’t always match the same amount of value as others.

Hernandez figured out how to get out of interrogation completely, only doing guard duty. A new recruit from another base takes her place, their mettle better than hers.

Reports are incredibly boring. They can be interesting when some of my superiors think they have a lead. They get worked up when that occurs, begin calling other comms across the globe asking questions, learning more. It’s a giant puzzle, I’ve learned, one that takes a bit of blood and bone to solve. When I first make this observation to Rey she smirked, shook her head, and said she wasn’t surprised.

Gabale finishes locking up his target and enters reporting. He signs what’s needed, mostly quiet. He’s never been a loud person, takes his aggression out on prisoners. He’s always been friendly but guarded. We’re all like that down here.

“I thought about you yesterday,” he mentions over one more thing to sign. I make a face, hoping that’s a good thing.

“Like…in a good or bad way?”

He smiles, finishing up and sliding the papers over to me. “Good way, I think. You were in the same company as a friend of mine.”

That could go either way. I shuffle papers, perch on the edge of my desk. “In Bogota?”

He nods. “Ye. Covey Rhees. Little loud but a real nice guy.”

I take a deep breath, pleasantness fading. I can see it now, the similarities in them. The calm they both carry—carried. Weeks of successfully eradicating Rhees' half burned skull from my mind are ruined. He’d fallen over me in the first big hit, acted as a shield. For days I believed the last thing I’ve ever hear were his proud words. Had we been standing differently he’d probably be here now with Gabale, not me.

“He was,” I echo, swallowing guilt. “Super nice. Wanted to be a DJ.”

Gabale’s smile grows fond. “So close, too! Man, did he make it? Do you know?”

My gaze lowers to the floor. “No.”

Something changes in him in that moment, as if he’s seen right through me. As if he knows what occurred. “Fuck. You know what happened?”

Of course I do. He probably saved my life. This is taking my head to a bad place. I grip papers hard in both hands, take a deep breath. “Um, he fell in the first strike with…with the majority of our team. We were ambushed.”

The reporting room grows quiet while he stares at me, face unreadable. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear something either good, or something about Rhees dying a hero. Because Rhees would’ve wanted that too.

He huffs, takes a step back, rubs a fist over his mouth. “But you’re here.”

Shaking his head he turns, ambling through the desks for the door. The last faces his wrath, all papers shoved off while he swears. It’s kicked several times for good measure, and then he stalks out. I watch him go, stuck in my position, heart skittering. I know what he’s feeling, felt the same way when it occurred, spent months burying. In Lagos we were told there’s nothing wrong with surviving, no reason to feel guilt, but that’s not what I’ve tried masking. It’s anger over having someone ripped from you, losing someone you know didn’t need to be there, could’ve prevented losing if you’d just been a little smarter. Maybe better, more experienced.

And here I am, potentially in his place, fucking around and too scared to do the job I was brought here for. It’s not my fault I’m here, but it is. Like the prisoners I know Gabale sees me for what I am. He no longer has his friend when I do. Why wouldn’t he be pissed?

I wait a bit longer before picking up his mess.

Later that night, beneath Maks in his sheets, I’m trying to forget about the hurt torturing Gabale’s face. Cock urgently pumping in and out of my slit, holding me tightly beneath him, Maks is making a great effort to do just that. My hands are over my head in proper rope now and I’m writhing, panting in his mouth when he offers it. I teeter on the edge but every time he speaks he reminds me of Gabale, reminds me things could’ve been much different. It frustrates him to no end—he takes pleasure in watching me come undone, enjoys seeing me powerless.

“Come on,” he urges, switching tactics, pulling out and rolling me over, smacking my ass so hard it burns. I whine into the sheets, trying to feel and accept everything in the present, not the past. He’s hardly out of me long, cock plunging right back in, hands harshly holding my hips. Perhaps it’s just me but I think he’s pushing himself, pushing me.

He can’t last much longer and ends up coming, gasping against my shoulder, teeth baring down while he calms. I still haven’t done as he demands. While he’s still in me he reaches around, groping my breasts, getting me squirming, cooing for more. I want to come, am convinced it’ll take my mind off everything. He tortures my clit in tandem, whispering filth in my ear, breath hot on my skin, promising he’ll get me there. I believe him but Gabale keeps coming to mind, keeps losing his composure. Fuck, I want to forget him, forget everything.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, tongue lathing my ear, furiously playing with my clit. “You’re so fucking wet. Makes me wanna fuck you all over again, get you moaning and screaming, crying for my cock. Mm, you like that, baby? I’ll make you squirt all over, make you lose your fucking mind.”

That’s what I want. Body flushed I encourage his touch, beg him not to stop. “Oh my god. Please, please don’t stop. I don’t—I don’t—”

I don’t even know what I’m talking about, frustrated tears leaking from the corner of my eyes. I need this so bad, need him to keep going. I know I’m close, can feel it teasing me in a soft, buzzing tingle stretching across my core. I want to yell at him to keep fucking me but I know he’s finished. He can’t recover in just a few minutes.

He must figure out what I’m crying for, fingers plunging in while his thumb keeps my clit company, digits searching for and stroking my sweet spot.

“Look at you,” he breathes, tone mocking. “You’re such a mess, begging to be fucked. So needy, isn’t that right? Ye, good girl. Come on, fuck my hand. Good fucking girl.”

He’s already half hard again, cock prodding against my thighs. I’m thinking of the dirtiest things he’s done to me, the times he’s eaten me out then kissed me, forcing me to taste myself, made me ride his face so I can’t escape his tongue. I want…want him to do whatever he wants with me, need him to overwhelm me.

When he bites down between my shoulder blades it triggers what I’m madly chasing. My core spasms, breaking around his fingers, a gush of warmth spreading through my body. I can’t breathe, covering my cries in the sheets and burying my head. Behind me he utters vain praise, free hand smoothing over my back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, humming in delight at my quivering. He’s hard again by now, dropping to the mattress and pulling my figure with, my back flush to his chest. His hands roam my body, coating my breasts and belly in our come before several fingers prod at my mouth. Still panting, eyes shut tight, I suck on his fingers while he dotes on me, nose gently nuzzling the back of my neck. His cock finds my slit without help, slowly diving in yet again. Delirious, I lay in his embrace on my side, happy to let him have me again.

“You’re so cute,” he huskily whispers, lips tracing my damp hairline, hips keeping a slow, steady rhythm. This is the cool down, the easy part. “You were crying, begging to come. It makes me hard seeing you so needy, baby. What’s gotten into you?”

What’s happened is I can’t stop thinking about the past, can’t forget about everything outside his door. It’s usually so much easier but not today. I don’t answer, let him cradle me in his hold, fucking me until he comes again. By now it’s late, he’s tired and drifting off, a heavy hand stroking my hair and murmuring soft observations.

I’m tired too but can’t sleep, agitation growing. I can’t take these triggers. For the longest time I’ll think I’m fine and then the previous tour returns, demanding I remember what I was lucky enough to leave behind. Without any distractions I grow upset, angry with myself for being unable to handle this. Everyone else can. Why can’t I?

“Baby,” Maks whispers into my ear, hold tightening, preventing the harsh breaths I’m trying to take. “Stop. Get some sleep.”

I ramp up the lies I tell myself. It's going to take a lot to do what he asks.


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "First rule of fight club is: you do not talk about fight club. Second rule of fight club is: you DO NOT talk about fight club!" Girl code follows the same rules.

Monday January 10th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Gabale and I never work the same shift again. When I confide to Rey she thinks the same as me, that the cameras caught his outburst, and I know this for sure when I find myself in Singh’s office in the middle of the day instead of doing reports.

He’s pleasant enough, exactly like when the three of us from Bogota were brought in. The number of times I’ve seen him since I can count on one hand. At first I thought it was about my fucking with Maks but he smoothly relieves my fears by immediately pointing to a monitor above his desk, stored footage of the reporting room paused, ready to be examined.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” I politely ask regardless, sitting across his desk, nerves already on high alert. They haven’t calmed in days. He smiles just as politely. I can tell this isn’t going to be fun.

“I did. How’re you doing, Bashir? Haven’t seen much of you since you’ve arrived. Settled in yet?”

Obe’s still technically my comm superior. He’s asked the same thing on occasion. I nod, hands folding together in my lap. “Yes, sir.” I look up at the screen. “I’m getting used to…reporting.”

“I can see that.” Clearing his throat he glances up with me. “Yeah, about that. I’m sure you know why you’re here. Gabale. What set him off?”

I’m alive and his friend is dead, simple as that. Also, I think the longer he’s around the enemy the more he likes retribution but that’s mine and Rey’s opinion. I’m not a snitch though. He won’t make me talk.

“Oh, that?” I shrug. “He was just—frustrated, about the investigation.”

“That’s all?” wonders Singh, leaning back. “Because…he nailed about every piece of furniture in his room, too. Scared his roommates a bit.”

I’m silent, staring at him. He expects a better explanation. I don’t have one. Sighing, he plays the footage and watches despite my inability to do the same.

“It looks to me,” he muses, “like you said something to set him off. When we asked him he said it was nothing, but damaging anything you can get your hands on isn’t nothing.”

I agree with that but his anger isn’t something I want to think about, care about. I already can’t stop thinking about it. “Weird. We were just talking, nothing special, sir.”

“Thought he was frustrated about the investigation,” Singh points out, catching my lie. My cheeks burn, ashamed I can’t lie. This is why I try to stay silent. “Is that not the case?”

I fix my attention on his forehead. “With all due respect, sir, I’d rather not discuss this. It wasn’t sensitive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Were you talking about your previous post?” he inquires, like I didn’t just decline. Catching my jaw tick he continues. “Bashir, we’re not looking to get anyone in trouble. We’re trying to understand. Gabale is…no longer with us, and I’d like to ensure this doesn’t happen to others.”

Gabale isn’t with us? What does that mean?

“I can’t help you with that, sir,” I quickly tell him, my own fears surfacing. I don’t want to end up like Gabale.

“I think you could,” he retorts, smile fading to a more serious expression. “You haven’t spoken with our counselor yet, I’ve noticed, yet you appear the most stable between the other two. I’ve been in your shoes before, Bashir. I know it takes a lot of work holding the kind of shit you’ve seen in.”

I can’t look at him. Everything he’s saying is right but I know what he’s alluding to. “I’m fine. I don’t think about it, sir.”

His teeth flash, amused I won’t open up. “That’s guaranteed to fail at some point. I read in your report you were held in Manzinoles? Pretty brutal place I’ve heard, ye?”

It was. I double down, arms crossing. Gabale’s gone. Why is he gone? “I apologize, sir, but I won’t discuss it.”

He scoots forward in his chair, just as serious as me. “You’re going to crack, Bashir. I hope you enjoy that kind of torture—just don’t take it out on my property, please. Now, back to Gabale. You say you two weren’t talking about anything in particular but you both appeared friendly prior to this. Did you…ever speak to him outside work hours? He ever threaten you?”

Threaten me about what? I stare, confused. Gabale and I had no relationship outside work camaraderie. “No, sir.”

He watches me, studying me. “Sure about that? Bashir, this is off the record. No one’s going to get in trouble. You never had any sort of external relationship with him?”

I…my gaze narrows. “No, sir. May I ask why you’d ask that?”

His fingers drum on the desktop. “We’ve been told you’ve had several injuries lately, things you don’t attribute to work. Given Gabale’s behavior it was thought there might be…something between the two of you. Perhaps he was angry with you?”

My heart sinks into my stomach, peripheral going white. How…how would they put that together? I didn’t…

Rey.

My jaw loosens. I take a deep breath, quickly covering up the rage pulling through my veins. She told someone. She thinks…thinks something’s going on behind her back, which it is, but it’s not what she thinks. I told her not to worry, trusted she’d keep these things to herself.

“No, sir,” I repeat, tone like gravel. “We didn’t speak outside work, didn’t even see each other. Whoever suggested that is wrong.”

“You’re sure about that?” he questions, still watching me. He’s waiting for me to lash out, waiting for me to admit this is exactly the case and they were right all along. My limbs are quivering with anger, hating Rey. I trusted her.

“When you say Gabale’s no longer with us,” I counter, unwilling to play along, “what do you mean?”

Thankfully he sees I’m being uncooperative. Singh backs down, busying himself shuffling papers from one side of the desk to the other. “He…was given guard duty on perimeters after this. His teammates heard some shots, found him with self-inflicted injuries.”

He’s dead, Singh means. Rey’s betrayal is forgotten, my skin growing cold. I nod, lower in my chair. I didn’t cause it, but I know I didn’t help. He was spoken to before they sent him outside, was I mentioned in that chat? Was he implicated in shit he never did, too? I don’t want to talk anymore, don’t want to be in this office. Singh’s right; I want to break shit.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I dismiss, glancing at the clock on his wall. Bitchiness is now my sole defense. “Sorry I can’t help you with this, sir. May I return to my position now?”

He clearly doesn’t think this is over but after several questions with no answers from me Singh gives in, allowing me to go. When I leave I keep my emotions in, stiffly walking through the corridors, mind a mess. Gabale is dead. Rey told someone about seeing marks on me. I’m…I’m still here, still witnessing interrogations, still wishing I’d never made it this far. I can see why Gabale ended it before he could keep going, envy him for having the strength to do so.

I head to the med ward before going downstairs, looking for Rey. She’s easy to find, studying a suture journal while her superiors idly work on filling med orders for prisoners. She looks up when she sees me approach, smile fading when she catches my look.

“What’s up?” she asks, concern obvious. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t do anything until I stand at her shoulder, jaw grinding together before I can find something to say. I glower down at her. She’s the only one who said anything about bruises, the only one who knew about Gabale’s meltdown. I’ve seen her have all kinds of meltdowns, break shit and scream obscenities when she’s having a fit. I never told anyone about those moments, never made her look bad. Paranoia tells me she’s doing this on purpose, forcing me to do things I don’t want to do. I don’t appreciate the gesture.

“Gabale’s dead,” I tell her, watching shock form on her face. I want to hit her but don’t. Anything I do now, I know Singh is watching. I don’t want to be like Gabale. Before she can say anything I shake my head, double down on my emotions, and walk away. She calls for me to come back but those go ignored. She can’t be my friend, not here. No one can.


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey tries to apologize but it doesn't work, so Maks does instead. In his own creative way. TW: a bit of fighting?

Friday January 21st, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Cutting people off is never easy. Luckily, it’s more bearable when there are things to keep me busy. When I don’t have anything to do I’m volunteering for extra shifts.

Rey tries apologizing. She knows why I’m pissed. I don’t accept it, won’t, keep my wall up. They’re watching me because of her. I was so paranoid about prisoners I failed to see it’s my own side trying to get to me. I ask Obe how likely it is for a transfer. He reminds me I’m contracted here for a year. Unless another hit like Bogota occurs I’m stuck.

So I keep doing my duty, keep heading down to the prison every day. Reporting becomes my world. It’s boring as hell, still better than watching interrogations which I can’t seem to get out of no matter what I try.

The beginning of my days are always interrogations. Prisoners come in groups, sometimes on their own if they’re really important, and depending on their level of importance determines what’s done to ferret information out of them. Grunts get the worst of it. Higher ups earn more verbal threats. Unlike other comms, Basman doesn’t differentiate. If they really want something he heads the investigation.

He doesn’t question my sudden disappearance from his room, doesn’t speak to me unless it’s work related. Nothing changes with him. Part of me thought he might be curious but if he is he doesn’t show it. I’m okay with that. His sister’s more bent about things than anyone.

She should be. She ratted me out.

I take shifts all over the facility, anywhere. Sleep eludes me so I take more, work more, hold myself in more. I don’t want to be like Gabale, don’t want to do what Singh says is inevitable. Obe won’t give me anything outside but if I ask other comms they will. I finally get outside after asking Shen, swearing up and down I won’t do anything stupid, and she takes pity on me. She allows me to take an afternoon shift guarding the facility’s perimeters.

It’s freezing out, more so than when I arrived. I bundle up in several layers, goggles keep my eyelashes from icing over. My joints are so stiff from the cold that if we were to have an enemy attack I don’t think I could fire my rifle even if I wanted to. I fantasize about heat, any kind, but being out here is better than nothing. It’s beautiful. Everything’s swathed in white, snow glittering for kilometers in all directions. There’s supposed to be a river nearby but it’s hidden in winter. This time of year it’s just snow and sky. Bright, unfettered sky.

It’s overwhelming, and it’s what I need. Despite telling Shen I’ll be good of course I’ve contemplated what a rifle to the face might feel like. I’ve looked down the barrel, wondered how much it’d hurt. A lot, I’m sure. Gabale could’ve done it easier. If he’d had access to all the sedatives I have he could’ve simply overdosed, or at least tried. He didn’t though, because he wasn’t friends with the right person.

All afternoon I rotate around the facility, moving from the complete open to tree cover, and everything in between. It’s slow, cold, and numbing. The sun goes down way too early, leaving me with several more hours to go in a purple twilight. I was given a link recently but no one contacts me on it unless it’s time to change positions—I’m not important enough for anything else. It’s quiet like usual. Wind howls across the mostly flat region around us, wolves accompanying it every so often.

If I never have to go inside I think I’d be okay with that.

When the purple sky turns darker so do my thoughts, reminding me Gabale killed himself somewhere out here. I try to push him away, shove thoughts down and let them rot in the back of my mind. It’s difficult ignoring him when I start the march to my next post

I don’t need to talk to a counselor. I already know these aren’t good thoughts. But they won’t go away. They keep persisting, reminding me I should not be here.

Drifts mute the nearby area. It’s peaceful until my link buzzes. Surprised, I check and find a message from Shen. When I check the time I find I’ve been here longer than necessary. Shift’s just ended and I’m not at my assigned spot, apparently. I twist about in confusion. Out here in the snow and hills I don’t even see the telltale trees masking the facility. It takes a startled moment but I do eventually find it, huffing on my stumble in it’s direction. I don’t remember going this far.

Shen’s not happy when I return but doesn’t say anything about it, indicates I head to dinner. I doubt I’m going to get another shift out here but thank her regardless, head on in. Everything is cold, the facility’s heat like fire to my skin. I shower, head to dinner. It’s mostly empty by now but Rey’s in there with some of her med buddies. She looks my way and I do the same as a warning, move past her table to get in line. Once I have my tray I sit in the corner furthest from her. She navigates to it anyway, not cautious in the slightest.

“Edin,” she starts, ignoring my focus on eating. “Can we talk? Please? Sorry, I just need to.”

If she were in my shoes she’d throw her plate at me. I refrain, chew thoughtfully. There are cameras in several corners here. Is Singh really watching me like that? Am I that interesting? I can’t be. But what if he is? Paranoia says it’s possible.

The fact she can’t think of anything to say after that lets me know she’s nervous. She’s never been a good apologist, never really been on this side of an issue and certainly not with me. I don’t want to end up like Gabale so I don’t snap. I imagine being back out in the snow.

“You did the right thing,” I finally say, lie coming easily.

Her pursed lips tell me she thinks the same. She knows it still hurt me though. “I’m sorry.” I keep eating. She sits across from me, fingers fidgeting. “I just…want you know I wasn’t trying to fuck anything up. I was really worried.”

I know. We both know that. The difference is she’s not crazy. She’s holding herself together.

“I know,” I softly retort. Given I haven’t yelled or told her to piss off yet she works to find something else to offer.

“Was…was I right? I mean, was he…?”

“No,” I firmly answer, looking down at my tray. “I would’ve told you if that was the case. So thank you for trusting me.”

Rey pulls back with that hurt look she gets when she’s not making any headway. I sigh, trying not to fall for it.

“I’m…sorry,” she finally tries, growing small. “I should’ve asked you.”

She didn’t though and now I look like both a slut and an idiot to our supervisors. Abruptly I get up and walk away, tray abandoned. I know she’s sorry. It doesn’t change anything—things are still what they are.

Maks’ eyes bore into me from his table with other supervisors. I don’t care anymore. He fucked everything up just like she did. Neither of them understand what this entails.

“Bashir.” I keep walking down the hall. He’s not trailing me for work related business, I know he’s not. “Bashir! Hold on.”

I pause when I reach the first intersection, pleased it’s active at this hour. If he wants to talk he’s going to have to do it in public. My nerves are getting to me, insisting he doesn’t care what happens if Singh figures me out. He can deny it all he’d like—I’m the one who snuck around, not him. They want me to fail like Gabale, don’t they? They know it’s going to happen. Singh said it himself; might as well get it over with. God, I sound so crazy even to myself.

“Talk to her,” he demands, pushing around me, glowering. Of course he is. I’ve hurt his sister’s feelings. “I don’t know what she did but it can’t be—”

“No, sir,” I refuse, brow hardening. “Leave me alone. Please.”

He clearly can’t, gaze shifting, studying who’s around us. He voice becomes quiet. “What’s your problem?”

I shut my mouth, look away. I don’t want to be here, want to go to bed and pretend I’m sleeping and fine. I am fine. I’m fine. If I tell myself this enough it’ll be true.

“Come with me,” he utters, tone indicating I don’t have a choice. He’s careful in the way he stands near me, doesn’t dare touch me. There are people around. I could stay right here and refuse but eventually he’ll bring backup. “Let’s hash this out, ye?”

When he moves for me I punch at him in a burst of aggression, knuckles tapping his bicep. It’s not hard but it gets his attention. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Rules vanish after that. There’s a utility closet too close to us. He pushes me toward it, gets it open and shoves me in before I can do much more than balk. The door shuts—he’s trapped me, in the dark no less. I try the handle. He’s holding it. Of course he is. If I scream someone might hear but then I have to explain this. They want me to talk so bad, even him.

Several minutes go by. I fume in the dark, pissed. This feels like a time out, like I’m back in school. Finally the door creaks open. He whooshes in, ensures I don’t get out and flips on the lights. I blink, glare at him. His eyes are big, focused, intent on me.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he remarks, voice soft, unassuming. I know better. “You’re pretty feisty all the sudden. Wanna hit me again? Go ahead.”

That’s not a free pass, it’s a dare. I hesitate. He calls my bluff, steps forward, arms open. “What, you’re afraid now? Can’t do it if no one’s watching?”

It occurs to me he does indeed carry his own level of crazy. That’s what this is, what Rey’s always emphasized. My stomach flips, sick. He could very well kill me if I try anything.

Yet I find myself trying anyway, furious he just shoved me in some closet. My fist manages connecting with his shoulder but after that all bets are off. In a whirl he tackles me. We hit the cement together, his strong arms squeezing around me like a jacket. Despite my anger I recognize he’s got a few years on me and a lot of strength training.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he demands again in a hiss, chest rising and falling heavily against mine. “Fucking one thing to ignore me but Rey? Whatever this is you don’t take it out on her.”

He’s right. He’s completely right, Rey did what we were supposed to do but she’s my friend. Some things are supposed to stay between friends. I struggle hard, do my best to break free. He bears down.

“Edin. Talk to me. Now.”

I can’t. Anything I say sounds ridiculous. He already laughed last time I told him something personal, he doesn’t care. The only person who does landed me in Singh’s office. Grunting, squirming erratically, I don’t know how to get out of this but I keep going, keep moving, do anything to shift just a little bit further from his hold. I can do it. The only person who can help me now is myself.

“Get off me!” I holler, biting down on one of his limbs. It surprises him enough I get a hand free, slashing at his face the second I can rotate it. He wasn’t expecting that and lets go with an avid curse, rolling off and away. His own hand clamps over his jaw, groaning. I take the free moment to fall on my back, catching my breath, the closet’s light burning into my retinas.

Across from me Maks laughs faintly, slowly sits up, legs sprawled in front of him. He’s still holding his jaw, a wry smile casually developing. “You hit hard, baby.”

He sounds proud. I don’t want to hear that. Of course he gets off on this. Miserable, vulnerable, stuck in here with him, I place my palms over both eyes and pretend this isn’t happening. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t—didn’t mean that.”

“Kind of feels like you did,” he smarts, boot stretching to touch my thigh. “God, that’s hot.”

“Shut up,” I beg, shaking my head. “Don’t start that. I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t’ve been fucking you in the first place.”

This catches his attention. He’s quiet for a moment, idly wiping bits of blood off stubble. “Grow a conscience all the sudden?”

I wish. I keep shaking my head. I’m losing my mind here, have known it for some time. If I don’t find something to distract myself with I’m going to cry in front of him.

Arms lowering, I slowly push upright and look over at him. The right side of his jaw has a couple scrapes, nothing serious. He’s never drawn blood from me, not that I can think of, yet despite the concern on his face I know he’s watching me with something else in mind. He enjoyed our tussle. I can use that to my advantage, to keep everything contained.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again, whispering. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s not an answer,” he drawls, but he accepts it regardless. He scoots over, knee touching my hip. “Look, whatever’s got you like this you need to figure it out. Don’t take it out on Rey, alright? If you need to do that with someone…do it with me.”

He’s providing himself as a distraction. I readily accept before it can be taken back. Tentatively I reach up, fingers brushing over the other corner of his jaw. He bites his lip, barely hiding a coy grin. He’s into this, wants to continue whatever it is we’re doing. He…did he miss me?

“Come here, baby,” he coaxes, hand cupping my backside and pulling me toward him. If I thought I had an advantage I don’t any longer, easily surrendering when his mouth captures mine, fingers digging into my skin. He keeps drawing me closer, all the way until I’m in his lap, attacking me with renewed lust. I feverishly return his kiss, allowing his hands to rove beneath my off-duty clothes, stroking soft skin. He groans when I stretch my fingers through his hair, suddenly into the idea of letting me touch him instead of the other way around. I don’t waste the opportunity, eagerly searching for and finding all sorts of warm muscle I haven’t gotten a chance to caress before.

I may be losing my mind but I’ll figure it out. I have to. I won’t end up like Gabale. For now though, I want to pretend I don’t exist and focus on him. He makes it so easy to forget about everything else.


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An atypical night in Edin and Maks' new routine. Think what you will about him but Maks never ignores Edin's own pleasure.

Tuesday, February 8th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Time fixes some things, others not so much. I never stop pouring myself into work, letting it consume every hour I’m on duty. If I’m free I’m with Rey, grudgingly forcing myself to accept her apology and moving on. It helps—she’s more perceptive than I remember, keeps up the questions but doesn’t get me in trouble again. If anything I do that, seeing Singh multiple times for follow-ups, attending forced physicals and finally seeing the counselor when he tricks me and brings them in during one of our meetings.

It does not go well, but at least my aggression is contained.

It’s contained to Maks’ room. He’s woken something within me, some kind of beast that thrives under his attention. I don’t see him every day any longer but when I do…it exhausts me in the best way.

Our shifts end several hours apart, a good thing since I can sneak through the darkened corridors in relative ease once I’m finished cleaning up. Staff housing changed their lock code recently but that was easy enough to overcome. At his door I knock softly, twice, our code. The door sweeps open in an instant, he’s expecting me, and I’m pulled in with a gasp. The second we’re sealed in together he has me pinned against the door, fingers circling my wrists and keeping them tight over my head.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, nose pushing against my throat, tracing past my jaw to my ear. His teeth bite the lobe and I shiver, earning a smile from him. Heavy against me his hip presses on mine, telling me everything I need to know. “Missed you today.”

He did, literally. I was supposed to do an observation this morning with his team but Obe had me working upstairs, covering for someone else. My reports occurred later on with one of the other investigation teams.

“You’re not avoiding me, are you?” he purrs on my skin. My jaw tilts, innocently shaking my head. Sometimes I’m the aggressor, but mostly it’s him. He’s better at it, has more experience. Still, I’ll surprise him on occasion which serves to further the game. I’m not the only one with marks all over my body.

It’s a good thing I didn’t see him earlier, his investigation report full of information indicating he had a field day with his captives. I do better when I’m not working with him.

There’s a set pattern to our time together, sex being the priority and needing to be handled first. Otherwise one of us will pass out, me most likely since sleep is nonexistent in my dorm bed. With this in mind he leaves a wake of kisses up and over my forehead, down to the other shoulder. He hums in approval when I loosen up, letting him continue.

My shirt is pulled over my head, landing on the floor. Maks rocks back, one hand keeping me up and the other squeezing a hip. He takes in my body, bite marks and soft bruises sprawled across the canvas. He utters a lofty sigh. This is his work and he’s damn proud of it.

“God, you put up with so much,” he breathes, lids lowered, praising me. “Mm, I can’t help myself. You get me hard looking so cute, so innocent…so fuckable.”

I suck in my lower lip, enjoying his words. If he ever shucked his pants I’m sure I’d see the same bruises my nails have dug into him.

He runs a thumb over my cheek, bringing me back to attention. I meet his gaze, belly fluttering with anticipation. His eyes are dark, intense. He can be gentle when he wants, fingers circling my waist and hoisting me onto one hip, my legs instinctively wrapping tight around him just like my arms. Taking me with he steps to the bed, capturing my mouth on the short walk, falling over me onto the mattress and continuing the assault. This is almost my favorite part, blood rushing to new parts of my body, him savagely raking off the rest of my clothes, anticipation building.

Once I’m bare he stops, sitting on his knees a moment, spreading my thighs. Seeing I shaved he smiles, running a thumb over my slit. Two fingers plunge through the folds, his eyes crinkling as he watches my jaw loosen.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, emboldened. “Haven’t been here five minutes and you’ve already got your pussy spread for me. It’s like you want me to touch you.”

I do, bottom needily squirming. His smirk grows, lazily stroking my clit.

“You always been this way?”

I sigh, arms stretching over my head, back arching pleasurably. “Only since I’ve known you.”

He takes pride in that, subtly rubbing suddenly tight shorts against my ass. “Good answer, baby. You like my cock so much you don’t care how you get it, hmm?”

I nod, entranced with where this is going. At first I assume he’s going to fuck me like this but he pushes back, lying down on the solitary pillow in his possession.

“Come here, baby,” he beckons, fingers crooking in my direction. “Suck my cock.”

My stomach’s in beautiful knots over the command. Pushing to my knees I find he’s already lowered his shorts, balls out and thick cock resting against his shirt. Without hesitation I settle between muscular legs, teasing him as I stretch and pull my hair in a ponytail.

He groans when I finally do bend over, ass available for viewing, full breasts touching his thighs. My mouth envelopes him, sliding down his length until I near my gagging point. His cock pulses, Maks unconsciously pushing his hips forward, trying to fit more in. It’s allowed, for now, his groaning making it worth it. He lies before me in a daze, utterly defenseless, looking like I imagine I look like when he’s touching me. It’s a wonderful view.

My jaw tires too easily but I ignore the ache, bobbing up and down in a rhythm. He’s grabbed my ponytail, forcing my head closer while he pumps his hips. When I toy with his balls I can feel them tightening, know he’s close. He’s been relatively kind this round, it’s a bit surprising. Usually there’s more biting involved.

Legs twitching he pushes me away, wordlessly tapping his abs. Rising on my knees I wipe my mouth, tentatively crawling onto his lap. Admittedly this isn’t a usual spot for me so I’m cautious, legs spread wide and carefully sinking down on him. His cock fills me completely, always a lovely feeling, both of us making our own noises. I slowly rock my hips, focus turning to him alone. He utters a content sigh, hands finding my knees, cupping them.

Lowering over him I dip to offer a kiss on his neck. He doesn’t enjoy being touched, not the way I do, so my trail is deliberate, lips dragging up his chin as he tilts his head back, uttering a low groan. When I find his mouth he keeps himself restrained, allowing me to suck in his lower lip, eagerly lapping at his tongue. He surrenders his control momentarily, lets me take over. I pick up my pace, breasts against his damp collar as I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing deep as I can. His hands leave my knees, finding my ass to dig into both cheeks. The more I grind on him the more heat blossoms in my core. Compared to other moments it’s subdued but it still settles the tension pulling at my nerves, giving me something to focus on.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, coaxes me to to lay on him, head buried in a shoulder. I comply, basking in his touch as it traces up my backside, coming to rest at the nape of my neck. He pumps in tandem with my loose movements, breath soft in my hair. I shiver, tightening around him. He utters vain praise, nibbling on an earlobe, setting me on edge.

I can feel it creeping up my spine, body going rigid right around the time his thrusts grow erratic, needy, cock swelling and stimulating too much at once. My mouth pops open with a whimper, Maks’ hold tightening, grasping me so hard I can barely breathe.

That may be the point, to keep me right where I am until he finishes, gasping harshly, crushing me in his grip. It’s suffocating, destroying my inhibitions, forcing me to feel the fullness between us. We lay stuck to one another for several moments, hearts pounding together.

He pulls my elastic out, hair falling around my face as I rearrange myself, intending to hop off and go find a towel. He keeps an arm around me instead, steadfast I stay with him. Good as it feels to have someone hugging me I know I’ll fall asleep if I stay here much longer. If he wants another round he’ll have to act fast.

“I’ll fall asleep,” I remind him, just in case he forgot. An amused rumble comes from his chest, lips finding my neck, briefly sucking on skin and leaving a red welt.

“Go ahead, baby.”

I snort, nuzzling the close shave of his neck. “That’s gross.”

“Shh,” he urges, a palm firmly pressing my head to his. “Let me have this.”

Have what? I relax regardless, gentle strokes over my shoulder blades calming. It feels like I’m with someone else entirely, his heart providing soothing white noise. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I first rushed in here but I’ll take it, easily growing drowsy. He encourages it: calm, quiet, occasionally kissing an exposed patch of skin. I forget where I am, feel like I’m home, safe.

He doesn’t do anything to make me think otherwise, not even in my dreams.


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present Edin and Maks prepare to leave, giving each other only the bare minimum of information necessary to work together.

Thursday, March 13th, 2059

Evening’s gripped the city, traffic from below infiltrating even my apartment. I’m watching the news on the monitor above my bed, listless for the time being. Things are about to change and my stomach’s in knots, so naturally I pretend nothing’s about to happen.

“Does it always get this loud?” Maks inquires from the kitchen, bent over my phone, it’s many pieces neatly organized on the counter. He’s removing the parts used for tracking. There’s no better way to give me a contact without being followed.

We’re supposed to leave tonight. I can’t believe everything’s happening so quickly.

I lower the monitor’s volume, savoring my comfortable bed. “I don’t know. I’m not usually here.”

From what he’s gleaned I work in a cafe, reverting straight back to what I was pre-war. Carefully pulling out a miniature chip he grunts in acknowledgment.

“Thought you’d be up early for the morning crowd.”

“I am,” I correct, rolling over, gathering sheets in my hands. I haven’t packed anything, don’t know what he thinks I should take. I definitely won’t be returning. “Doesn’t mean I trust others to close up.”

“You work too much.” The smirk in his voice is obvious.

I don’t work enough. Work is the only thing that keeps me distracted. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost,” he drawls, voice patient. “Almost. You packed?”

“You never told me what to pack.”

There’s an irritated huff. “Clothes, baby. Not hard.”

Says the man who isn’t abandoning the closest thing he’s had to home in forever. I don’t move, keep watching the news. We’re going after La Raz now, their leaders considered resistant to new ordinances. I think I’d resist too if the rug was pulled from beneath my feet, my authority null soon as Shanghai stepped in. Given how much everything’s changed I don’t even know who was on which side anymore. It was such a mess at the end. Shanghai pulled a fast one, switched loyalties, destroyed everything Maks and his people…what our people stood for.

Regardless, they found several higher members of La Raz and executed them in Colombia. How fitting.

“Do you want to know where we’re going?” he wonders, snapping things back together. I don’t, honestly. All he said earlier was we’d get out of the country first, pin down where exactly his target might be, prep, and then we’d move in quickly and quietly. So far I haven’t volunteered my thoughts on who he should be looking for. He hasn’t asked.

I stretch on my bed and roll over, looking around to see what I could use to carry a couple shirts and pants. My gaze shoots to the windows, already missing the beautiful view I’m lucky enough to have.

“Do I need to know?”

“Guess not,” he murmurs, my phone nearly back in working order. He tells me anyway. “Moscow.”

Given it’s semi-influential proximity I’m not surprised, but I look to him anyway. “You speak Russian?”

“Enough,” he humbly answers with a slight laugh, turning my phone back on. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is it’s safe there.”

He says that so confidently. I have my doubts but keep them inside. At least I know to pack warm. Sitting up, I roll off the bed, spying a bag I don’t normally use hanging from my open closet. When I pick it off it’s hook the suddenness of this transition hits me again.

“Phone’s goods as new and untracked,” he announces, sounding proud of himself. I glance his way, nerves rising. What if none of this works out? What if we’re captured or don’t even make it out of the city? He’s already resigned himself to this risk but this is all new to me. Am I prepared to fall should this not work out? What if he drops me? What if this is truly an elaborate plot for revenge? Should I really trust him? I don’t know.

Everything about this is a terrible idea. I’ve spent years normalizing myself. I’ve worked, buried my feelings, my past. Going with him ruins all of that.

But who’s to say I was supposed to be here in the first place?

“Maks,” I ask just as suddenly, fingers clutching the bag. “What if this doesn’t—what am I supposed to do?”

His gaze shifts my way, my panic obvious, and shrugs. “You’ll figure it out.”

Shouldn’t have expected anything else. Dropping the bag I rest a hand on my hip, look to the carpet. This is the best living situation I’ve ever had. Obviously I want to help but…I’m a bit lost as to how I can just disappear and ‘figure it out’.

“How?”

Before I know it he’s in front of me, handing over my phone. I take it, worrying now. He cups a shoulder, doesn’t attempt to sugarcoat anything.

“Don’t worry about it until it happens. I’ll take care of the logistics, you focus on figuring out how to get us in. Rey swore you were innocent, and if she could find you she could prove it. Have any idea where we should start?”

The way he says it makes me realize he thinks I told Rey things before I left, like we were tight enough for me to tell her. That wasn’t the case, not when we were so secretive. But, I have my suspicions on where to start, names to follow.

I lean on my closet, panic subsiding a moment. “There’s a…a base in Sofia. That’s where they took me, where we should start. A lot of leads sit there.”

He studies me keenly, steps closer into my personal bubble. “Not Shanghai?”

My head shakes, thoughts fuzzy. I don’t want to go back but…this isn’t about me. “No. They make orders from Shanghai, work from Sofia.”

He keeps staring at me, waiting for something I can’t give him. Finally he tsk’s, gaze narrowing. “You haven’t asked about her at all. What happened, how she…passed.”

Rey was my best friend. I buried her from my thoughts years ago, trying to push away from that life as much as possible, willing to believe she was fine and had hopefully moved on. If I think about her now I’ll cry, and I won’t do that in front of him. It gives him power, shows him my vulnerabilities. He’s too clever, sees what I’m thinking anyway.

“Hey,” he beckons, voice soft. “Don’t be shy with me. I trust you about as far as I can throw you but…if this is gonna work it’s gotta be more. Tell me who got you into this. Rey was trying to track the group who found the facility, I know she was. Knowing her she got caught up before she even realized they found her first. Are _they_ in Sofia?”

I nod, lips pursed. His gaze bores into me.

“You really worked with them. You brought them into Bhutan.” My nod isn’t believable. He softens, tries a different approach, arm circling my waist. “Baby, lying isn’t gonna get you anywhere with me.”

He doesn’t understand I don’t want to be the one to tell him. He’s gone this long without knowing. Without a second thought I reach and pull my shirt over my head, ignoring his scoff.

“That’s not gonna work this time.”

It might. Can’t be sure until I try. Sinking to my knees before him I see he doesn’t stop me, but his hand covers mine before I can unbutton his pants, fingers curling around mine. Unsure what else to do I rest my cheek against him, ignoring his stare. His fingers work through my hair, calming me.

“Why won’t you tell me?” he wonders, voice hoarse. “Are you protecting them? Were they good to you? Did they take care of you better than me?”

I can’t help shuddering, pretend he’s not talking. He wasn’t there. He didn’t submit to months of intense questioning, didn’t spend days locked in a cell with nothing but himself. There was nothing good about my time in captivity, nothing until they let me go, sent me off with a bunch of money and told me to lie low. They gave me a whole new identity, everything to let me hide in plain sight, the only caveat being if I was needed, I needed to be available.

“I let them in,” I repeat, tensing up before his free hand claps over my exposed cheek, pulling my gaze up. He highly dislikes I won’t give him what he wants, fingers digging in.

“Tell me, Edin. Don’t fucking lie to me again.”

Am I really about to leave with a man whose behavior borders on abusive? I’d still go even if he couldn’t stand me. Rey shouldn’t have been hurt, or killed. She had nothing to do with my capture.

Silence isn’t a lie. Jaw held steady I keep my mouth shut, blinking up at him. He stares back, agitation thrumming just beneath his skin. He’s trying to be gentle, trying to coax me into a more relaxed demeanor and if he does anything now he knows how uncooperative I can be. I did learn from the best.

“I could choke you,” he idly threatens, brow darkening, thumb stroking my jaw and tracing over my lips. “I’d really like to. Give you all sorts of pretty marks, ye? But you…you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Not as much as he would but yes. It’d give me a reason to hold my resolve. Unlike right now, when I’m leaning into his touch, completely compliant save for my mouth and even that’s pretty easy to manipulate when he slides his thumb past my lips, lewdly running it over my tongue. He member throbs against my other cheek and my lashes fluttering innocently. He said it wouldn’t work this time, but it did. Maks lets it go for now, a strained noise rumbling from his chest.

Abruptly shoving me away he steps back, heads to the kitchen.

“Pack. We’re leaving once traffic dies down.”

On my knees I watch his exasperated swagger, secretly pleased with myself. He’s not in complete control.


	18. XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW-torture, Edin's put into the interrogation room, snapping when it's over.

Wednesday, February 9th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

I report downstairs right after breakfast. My duties have been altered to ‘as necessary’ which I don’t fully comprehend until Obe sets my schedule to interrogation. It’s always tied with observation but today it’s marked as guarding on my link’s calendar.

Guarding, I’m alarmed to discover, is what some of the other people on Basman’s team do in the investigation cell, not the observation room. I’m given a heavy baton for safety purposes, tucking it at my side when we head through the prison’s several levels in search of one captive. The fact I’m back on cell levels unnerves me; I thought I’d managed to get as far away from these people as possible.

Miri, me, and another private collect our target, cuffing and chaining them before they’re allowed out of their cell. Before we put the hood over her head I see it’s the same girl from my first investigation, the one from my camp in Bogota. I try not to look at her, guiding her back to the interrogation room with neutrality in mind. On the inside I’m sure the smirk she sported when we first showed up was recognition. It had to be. On the outside I act like every other guard I’ve watched escort prisoners.

Shoving erratic emotions aside has been difficult but it’s the only thing I can do to keep myself sane here. Sometimes I can’t escape them but mostly it’s worked thus far. Today, with a girl who further added insult to injury by having truckloads of expired prisoners hauled to a large pile and set aflame, I’m not as stable. I’d like to hit her with my baton and run, run as far as I can and never return.

She’s thinner though, weaker now. I can sense it in the way she quivers when she walks. Very little past her sneer is intimidating.

We bring her into the room. Basman’s waiting for us. He throws the woman a raw look when the hood’s off, indicates we secure her to the wall. The other private and I do while Miri looks on, the woman starting in on a frenzied speech, voice growing louder by the second. I don’t comprehend all of it, thankfully, but her words are strange, sharp, angry. It doesn’t help it’s all in Spanish.

She goes on for some time, going quiet a moment after fully yelling at us. Miri and I guard the room’s outer corners while Basman paces in front of her. I do not acknowledge his presence.

In her silence he asks something (in Spanish), presumably if she’s finished because she’s not, launching into another tirade. Her shouts are peppered with tonal questions. He laughs bitterly at something she says then slams her against the wall, her shouts turning into harried squeaks, air knocked from her lungs. I’m surprised she didn’t hit her head but I’m not looking at them, staring at the dark window ahead instead. Unless that girl gets free I literally stand here until he’s done.

It doesn’t sound like he’ll be done soon, choosing to bark in her face for the time being. She isn’t intimidated, blinking angrily, jaw held tight. What are we supposed to get from her again? Miri told me earlier but I don’t remember what it was, something about her misleading someone. She’ll likely regret that by the time Basman’s finished.

Letting off he steps back, gives her a chance to speak. She wastes it, hurling insults at him in a broken mix of Spanish, English and Portuguese—it’s cringeworthy but I verify she’s definitely working the insult angle. Basman grins knowingly, paces and nods along to her raving. She spits at him but it falls short. He still finds the opportunity to be back at her throat, fingers closing around her jugular, nose nearly pressed to hers as he hisses threats. I can feel the blood draining from my face, head light.

“Bien,” she finally snaps, lip curled. “Bien, bien, bien. Dios, motherfucker. Que deseas, their name? Huh?”

“Name would be a good start,” he purrs back, close enough to bite her. I can’t believe I’ve ever let him touch me. “Nombre. _Ahora_.”

She smiles. Whatever she murmurs back isn’t a name. He grabs her stringy hair and slams her head against the wall once more. His voice is thunderous, shaking my bones as he yells at her. The edges of my vision sparkle white, convinced I was not put on earth to see this and should not witness this moment, but it’s only because I’m so close. I’ve seen worse.

Nearby I catch Miri doing her best to keep a straight face—she’s trying not to laugh. These people are monsters. _My_ people. God, I shouldn’t be here. I can’t handle this.

His aggression doesn’t subdue the girl. She screams back when she has the chance, keeps throwing out things Basman doesn’t care for. When he suffocates her wrists in chains she pulls the same trick, pretending to agree to talk and then insulting him more. She’s clever, really. I can see why my team gets so frustrated.

She must say something that crosses the line, Basman’s fingers closing too tight. While she gasps he calmly whispers, face unreadable. Her face grows red then purple, eyelids fluttering, head lolling to the side. He lets up slightly, slapping at her cheek until she comes to, continuing like nothing happened. This is bizarre, like an alternate reality where she can’t be terrorized by the most threatening person we probably have in our arsenal.

Yet something eventually resonates with her. After his soft monologue she tilts her head back, neck stretching to look from Miri to me. A choked scoff escapes her, dry lip curling once more. Her gaze settles on me and she harrumphs. “Tu. Tu, ye? You look—”

Basman pulls her chin to him, cuts her off with more hissing. I lean on the wall, pray I don’t faint. She knows me. I knew she would. They’re all going to know me now, know who helped land them here. Did he tell her I was in Manzinoles? It kind of sounds like it. Paranoia rips apart the wall I’ve contained these thoughts behind, tells me I will die by her hands if she can help it.

Letting her go Basman saunters to the room’s tool bench. He returns to her with pliers, a hand indicating his face while he speaks. Part of me wants to know what he’s saying but the rest is sure it’s nothing good. They’ve clearly gone back and forth a good deal, know each other’s routines. She shrinks in her bonds.

Yeah, whatever it is it’s not going to be good. Gabale was better suited for this, not me. He didn’t have this done to him.

She thrashes until he firmly holds her head in place. Pliers aren’t in rotation yet but even I can tell he plans on using them given his sweet tone. He gives her another chance, she’s too scared to take it—I hold my breath, look to the door. Her screaming is inhuman. I’ve heard it before, don’t need to watch. I’ve seen them do all sorts of shit behind that window but not in here, not up close.

She’s sobbing now, hyperventilating. I stare at the ceiling, at the door, at anything that isn’t them. Basman keeps making demands, impatiently prodding her along until she agrees, which…she does. After several long, excruciating minutes, and in words everyone can understand.

“Fine. Fine, it’s Garza. Lives in Santiago, controls a cartel on the side. He gives orders, answers to La Raz. He gave us our coordinates, provided silence.”

La Raz? I’m not familiar with the term but both Miri and Basman are. Miri’s murmuring into her link.

“He still in Santiago?” Basman’s tone is cool, soothing, willing to give her another chance. He’s too good at this, how did he go from training sergeant to interrogator so quickly? He’s been elsewhere before, I think, but I never paid attention. Was training a break for him?

She indicates he is with a soft whine. “Ye. Look, I did what I was told, nothing—”

She’s choked, I can hear it. Basman huffs.

“Funny how everyone’s just following orders when they get caught. Come on, sure you didn’t get a kick out of it? I’ve got it on good authority you did.”

She’s sobbing again, shrieking horrible things in between. Basman’s right—she was in his role previously, took great pleasure in harming those around me.

“Sure it wasn’t you?” he demands, brows raised heinously high in question. “If I have a team go down there and pick him up, he’s going to tell me exactly what you just told me?”

“Fuck! Si, si…Dios. Please, no me lastimes, ye? I didn’t—”

“You told me the last guy was the one giving orders,” Basman points out over her whimpering. “Are you sure? Come on, Mahv, we’ve been at this for months now. You sure you want to die here?”

“Oh porra…Porra! Fucking kill me then, por favor. I can’t—no, don’t!”

He has a torch, I know he does. I try not to vomit, try to keep everything in. He might very well kill her, but would he really? I can’t tell, don’t understand the end game anymore. Whether my eyes are open or closed doesn’t matter, I can picture her surveying prisoners from above the pit, a gaggle of hangers-on following her across walkways. She’s pointing out who should go in the pyre, the ones we can see smoking from down here.

Everyone’s just doing their part. I wish Rey never tried enlightening me with her pacifist bullshit.

“My team’s gonna head down there,” Basman remarks, doing something that makes her screams amplify. “If they don’t hear the same thing you just told me, straight from his mouth…you and me, we’re gonna get comfortable and you’re gonna learn what really hurts.”

She cries her understanding, gives clarification. “He will! He will. Get his daughter. She goes to some fancy preparatory. Take her, he’ll talk.”

Basman’s entire demeanor brightens. “Garza has family? How convenient. What’s her name, Mahv?”

There’s a defeated sniff. “Constanza. Garza.”

I can hear the sadistic smile in his voice. “Good. Congratulations, Mahv—you kept most your teeth today.”

She doesn’t answer, keeps crying instead. He rises, steps back and places his tools back in their proper place. “Let’s go. You want to get cleaned up?”

He and Miri remove the girl’s chains, put the hood over her head and drag her from her post, the other private trailing. I stand by at attention, pretend I’m not even witnessing any of this until she passes. Blood drools down her jumpsuit front.

The second the door shuts behind them I slide to the floor, shaking. A misguided look over confirms the horror I expected, blood splattering the concrete along with several…teeth. My ears buzz, vision going white. I put my head between my legs and hold my breath, wait for the moment to pass. It will pass. I will be fine.

Constanza Garza, wherever she is, won’t. Internalizing this isn’t helping.

Basman and Miri come to collect me in a bit, the other private gone, presumably to cover elsewhere. We finish spraying down the room then head to reporting. They speak to each other like normal and I follow them, convincing my stomach to retain it’s iron exterior. In reporting they murmur clinically about the investigation. I pull it all together in a tidy splash of pages, get their signatures and file it. No one says anything about what exactly happened, just that we were able to obtain necessary information. Miri smiles at me, finds my meekness amusing.

“You’re pretty squeamish,” she observes, as if I haven’t had near the same reactions in the room opposite interrogation. “Cheer up, ye? We’ll make them pay.”

I’m not interested in payback but don’t voice that, shrugging instead. “I just…never thought I’d see this, again.”

She looks me over, thoughtful. “You’ll see more of them, you’ll get your chance.”

Chance for what? Something about that rubs me the wrong way. I stare back at her, feelings I’d left in the room returning, twisting into something ugly. She thinks I’m like Gabale, that I’ll enjoy this just like them at some point. That won’t happen, I’ve already talked to myself about this.

Leaving the file cabinet I offer the same face she’s shown threatening inmates. She wants anger I’ll give it to her.

“Can’t wait. When they arrive give me a fucking AR-15 and I’ll put it to good use, fucking shoot my brains out and get it over with for them. Sound good? Oh, but that’s not kosher, is it?” Miri’s baffled so I continue, step a bit closer to her. “You ever been in her position, Miri? Ever—”

“Bashir.” Blinking, I realize Basman’s still there, back to us, reading over a different report. “You should stop there.”

“Or what?” I quip, anger getting the better of me. At least I don’t knock papers off desks as I stalk off. “You’ll send me outside like Gabale? Fuck that.”


	19. IXX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never call a girl crazy. They take it personally.

Thursday, February 10th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Unsurprisingly my outburst presents me with an opportunity to meet with Singh. Again. I’m sick of these meetings and so is he, and having Basman sit in because ‘he was there’ doesn’t help. Personally I think he’s just pissed I didn’t seek him out last night.

What was he expecting? He threw me in with his lot and I think he knew ahead of time, manipulated me the previous night to try and convince me this was normal.

So, you know, I’m a little pissed with him.

He looks bored as hell. Good. I hope this tore him from important things today.

“Pretty sure you know why we’re here,” Singh sighs, concern near believable. I offer my neutral face, the one I use for everything nowadays.

“I don’t believe I caused any damage, sir,” I calmly inform him, hands politely folded in my lap. As far as I’m concerned I’ve done nothing wrong.

“Bashir,” he huffs, leaning forward on his desk. “This stays off the record. I’m assuming that’s what you’re concerned over, ye?”

Now that he mentions it I probably should be. I shrug, mouth shut tight. He makes another exasperated noise.

“Look, I’m not saying you did anything wrong but you’re making statements that concern your peers. I—I’m just gonna get to the point. Are you having any suicidal ideations?”

Sometimes. “No, sir.”

“Do you practice self harm?” He means the notes they make during my physicals. Despite ‘evidence’ I’m proud I don’t even bat an eyelash.

“No, sir.”

Singh’s eyes roll. “Right. So…the fixation you’ve got on former private Gabale. That has nothing to do with mouthing off?”

You can’t be cornered if you don’t play the game. I take a deep breath, fix my face. “He does come to mind, sir, on occasion. We came to Bhutan together. I would not like to end up in a similar situation as him. Yesterday I had a lapse. I apologize for that, sir, and would apologize to comm Miri if given the opportunity.”

Smirking at such bullshit Singh lowers his guard. “You’re pretty good at this, Bashir.”

He’s right; I credit months of lying to myself, forcing myself to create a shell that can’t crack. Nobody’s getting my secrets. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“You’re such a liar,” Basman interjects in disgust, getting my blood pumping. Beside him Singh studies me, looks for truth in that statement. Suddenly this becomes good cop, bad cop. I put on my best shock.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sure what I’m being interrogated over. I show up for shifts, extra shifts, complete my training, keep quiet…is there something I don’t understand?”

“I don’t think you have the mental stability to work in interrogations,” he slowly decides, looking down at his desk to a specific report. “Which is a shame because you’re needed there. Bashir, I’d rather not have you end up like Gabale, either, but based on what I’m seeing you’re headed in that direction. I’m placing you on light duty upstairs for the next two weeks and you’re going to see our counselor—I know, I know, you don’t talk to them. Don’t care. We’re monitoring you until you exhibit more stability.”

He thinks I’m crazy. I mean I guess I am but…hearing it from others is another thing. That can’t be denied without looking worse. Heart racing I look to Basman. I can’t read him but I suspect he helped Singh come to this conclusion. My nostrils flare, chest rising. Of course I have to say something.

“You motherfucker, did you tell him this? You have me watch all those fucking interrogations, see me yell once and all the sudden _I’m_ crazy?”

His silence indicates I’m right. I rise from my chair. So does Singh just in case. The fact he does shows he has no faith in me. He thinks Basman’s correct. Basman is correct. Doesn’t change the fact it fuels my seething.

I plop back down, options limited. “Fine. Whatever, I’ll see the counselor. Whatever you want, sir.”

He pauses, looks to Basman who continues to stay mostly silent. His gaze hones in on me, skeptical. “Just like that?”

Just like that. I’m not crazy, not like Gabale, anyway. Nodding, I fold my hands over my thighs.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, sir. But, if that’s what you think then I’ll do as you instruct. I don’t want to cause problems, sir.”

He smirks wryly, nods at the door. “Right. You’re dismissed, Bashir. We’ll talk in two weeks to see where you’re at. Basman, escort her to Obe for further duties.”

They won’t even let me walk the halls alone. I keep it together quite well, Basman following me out into the corridor. Given it’s still first thing in the morning the halls are empty, our steps the only noise for some time. There’s nothing for me to say to him and at this point I don’t know what I can say. Rey’s better at keeping quiet than him.

When we turn a corner he brushes against me, knuckles tracing my belt. I pretend it didn’t happen until he does it again, eyes intently scanning our surroundings.

“Got out of interrogations,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper. “Happy?”

My chest grows cold—I hadn’t thought of it that way. He still thinks I’m unstable, still discussed things with Singh without my knowledge.

Maks uses the empty hall to his advantage, stopping me in my tracks, fingers circling my wrist. “Hey. Don’t pull that shit again. I had things to do this morning.”

He thinks he did me a favor. I yank my hand out of his grip, furious with him. I’m not Rey, I don’t need any interventions from him. None, ever.

Anger turns him on, I already know it, so I nod and look past him. “Won’t happen again, sir.”

Doing a double take he studies me. “Edin. You understand?”

His hip presses to mine, a scandalous amount of affection for him. He’s breaking our rules. He convinced someone I’m unstable.

“Don’t,” I softly advise, my hip pushing back and stepping away. “Let’s go. Obe should be in exercise.”

Rooted where he is he watches my quick strides. “Edin.”

“Let’s go!” I stress, ignoring him. He thinks I’m crazy. He encouraged another comm to think the same thing and all I did was raise my voice. If he can do that what else is he capable of?

I don’t trust those who can’t keep their opinions to themselves.


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Edin have a moment's gossip, Edin feels out how Rey might take her current relationship.

Friday February 18th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

“I mean, he’s cute at least, right?”

Digging at my food I shrug. Rey’s not helping. “Ye, but he makes me do all this…talking. I could do that with you.”

“Does it help though?” she keenly questions, eyeing me. I go silent, stuff my mouth with whatever they served for dinner—does it even matter what it is? It all tastes the same anymore.

She wants me to admit it has but I can’t do that. It hasn’t. All talking to a counselor does is make me faster at crafting lies. The counselor knows I’m not being truthful but what can he do? He can’t force words out my mouth. Yet.

I humbly divert to his looks. “Ye, he _is_ nice to look at.”

We both giggle and she moves on. “Well, enjoy your free time while it lasts. They’ve been keeping us busy lately.”

By the look on her face I know she means they’re busy fixing up inmates. Of course it’s been busier. The last reports I did were peppered with new information. They’re looking for several key suspects in a string of incidents down south. I vaguely assume that’s why Basman and a select number of people are gone, presumably looking for that girl they think will get the enemy talking.

I’m glad he’s gone. I can’t sleep for shit but I’m glad there are no chances to run into him and pretend like I’m fine over his abuse of trust.

Very subtly Rey leans over the table, offering a conspiratorial expression. “I think that’s why they sent Maks out. They’re looking for someone, aren’t they?”

Since when does she care? I nod anyway, our bond tighter now that we both know everything stays between us no matter what. “Ye. All that bloodshed is for something, I guess. You guys hear of a Garza?”

Rey’s head shakes, looking confused. “Here?”

“No, in Santiago.”

“What? But they—they’re with us.”

I nod knowingly. “Ye. So—we’ll see what happens.”

She takes a deep breath, drinks some water. “Of course they’d send Maks. Whatever. Hope he doesn’t come back. He’s too nosy.”

I agree, unsure if I mean it or not. It feels right in the moment. Given he’s absent I think about telling her my stupidity over hooking up with him and then continuing it. If it were someone else she might commiserate over stupid choices but this is different.

I move my fork around it’s plate. “Do you think he’s seeing anyone?”

She’s already scoffing. “Tch, god help a bitch who gets with him.” Then she looks at me, eyes wide with disgust. “No. No! Edin, you know how he is—you work with him! Don’t let his looks fool you.”

“I was just wondering,” I backtrack, confirming she won’t like hearing my confession. “He seems different here. Guys only pull that shit when they’re, you know, occupied.”

She snorts, still shaking her head. “Not him. He’s just happy he can wail on people without consequence.” Leaning forward she points at me and then her. “Look at me, Edin. Look—at—me! You know him. Believe me when I say it’s not worth it. Find someone else’s ass to look at, like the counselor.”

I fake disgust but honestly agree with everything she just said. It gives credit to the notion I’m an idiot. “I wasn’t looking! I just thought maybe he’d gotten some booty or something. You know, something to chill out on.”

As an added measure Rey’s eyes bug out, voice going soft. “And I’m pretty sure he’s killed more than a few people. On the field, sure, but come on—he thinks it’s fun.”

I’m sure he does, honestly, but I’ve done the same. Didn’t enjoy it nearly as much, not even remotely.

“I know,” I finally admit, grabbing my cup. “He’s crazy. Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Yet my anger doesn’t prevent me from thinking about his bed. Just one more time. No, that’s stupid. So stupid. I need to focus on other things.


	21. XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basman returns, stumbles through a request to see Edin one on one.

Wednesday, March 8th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Winter’s almost over, the tundra surrounding the facility beginning a slight meltdown. Not that I get to see it, but hear about it from coworkers. I’m back downstairs doing reports, my follow up with Singh a breeze compared to the last.

He isn’t convinced but he accepts I’m more chill, not as spooked about working downstairs. It helps my latest physical produces no positive checks for self harm. Aside from the fact I can’t sleep until I’m about to pass out I’m much, much better. When I tell myself I’m fine I mostly believe it.

Reports are different without the main crew, investigations more sporadic and less intense. I guard for a few since we’re short; they’re not nearly as bad after the initial shock. Most of my time is spent pulling previous reports and sending them to other comms via link. A lot of the time these requests come from out of the region, from the East or South America. They come in bursts and then for days there’s nothing.

Today I’m doing cleanup, scrubbing down the prison floor by floor. Such is the glamorous life of a private in a facility with a skeleton crew. Hernandez is on the same team as me and we chat occasionally. She’s calmed down a lot, her removal from investigations good for mentality. She won’t tell me how she managed it but I don’t pry too hard, either. It’s just nice both of us are still alive.

We don’t mention Gabale.

We’re on the third cell level spraying down the walls when my link buzzes. It’s an urgent request for several old reports, from Basman. My heart both sinks and beats harder. I’ve never received a request from him. Doing my best to remain professional I bow out, head to the stacks.

He’s not very specific but needs all reports from one day pulled, right before the new year. Who did they interrogate back then? My mind wanders but I can’t remember, too many details about other investigations bubbling up instead.

In reporting I find the cabinet holding what he likely needs, yanking files here and there. He’s focusing around a certain prisoner but it’s not that one girl we interviewed—it’s a male, has a vaguely western name but that means nothing in this day and age. Pooling them together on one desk I press my fingertips on the top of the pile. I was working down here this day, pretty sure of it. I don’t remember filing any of these or even observing this guy’s questioning. At all. But my signature’s on several pages, indicating I was definitely present.

I need more sleep.

Footsteps are coming down the hall. I hear them well before anyone appears at the reinforced door. My attention moves from papers to the door’s small window. They swipe their ID, door opening and Basman himself sliding in.

No one said anything about him being back—he wanted these sent via link. I _hate_ that my first thought is he looks good with a little extra tan.

Waffling near the door he juts his chin my way. “You were taking too long. I figured I’d go get them.”

He’s still the exact same. Covering my train of thought I hold up the stack, half incensed. “Everything from the 29th on him. Here you go, sir.”

Ignoring my words he comes to the desk and takes the papers, immediately flipping through each one. I stand as I am, refusing to move out of principle. He can move if he’s uncomfortable. I mean, I am but that’s not the point.

In between pages he glances at me, breath stilted. It’s unnerving. I examine my link, trying to look busy.

“You still want these over link?”

His gaze catches, stays on me a moment. “Ye, thanks. I need…need the 30th, too.”

“Same guy?” I’m already springing for the cabinet. Setting aside the papers he nods, follows me. Together we sift through each drawer, pulling everything we can that has this one guy involved. I don’t ask what it’s about; I only report, not investigate. Soon I’m the only one pulling, Basman scanning through what he’s found, muttering under his breath.

“Send me all of this,” he orders, leaning on the cabinet’s side. “We need it all. Send it to Shen—Miri, too. She here today?”

“Always is,” I answer, moving papers to the desk and organizing them. He leaves what he’s found with me, heading for the door again.

“Great. Thanks.”

I don’t respond, looking up when I never hear the door open. He’s standing maybe two meters from it, twisted to face me. I look down at our reports, wishing he’d leave already.

“Edin.”

My eyes roll, trying to focus on scanning what he wants. “Yes, sir?”

“You…everything good with Rey?”

At least he makes it easy to be disappointed. I start scanning. “Ye, she’s fine.” Better than usual, probably because he’s been gone. Basman stays where he is, tentative.

“You good?”

“Are you good?” I wonder, confused why he’s still here. From the sound of it he just returned; there are other things he could probably be doing. He’s confused why he’s still here too, gaze flitting to the cabinets like he’s looking for something else. Ignoring my question he licks dry lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Look, can we talk? Later?”

No. No, absolutely not, he doesn’t want to talk. I know him enough to know that’s not what he wants. He wants to fuck, that’s it. Unless it has something to do with work I won’t _ever_ agree to anything involving him, this can’t keep going on.

I give a faint nod, voice going quiet. “Okay.”

Relief washes over his face and he finally turns. The door bangs on the wall in his haste. “I’ll find you.”

I’m cursing myself, grumbling irritably as I scan his stupid papers. I’m still relieved he’s returned.


	22. XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin and Maks do some conflict resolution.

Friday, March 10th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Word slowly trickles out Garza was not captured, nor was his daughter. They weren’t even in Santiago by the time our team arrived. Okay, I glean this from reports out of curiosity. The rest of the comms don’t want to talk about it. Basman’s trip to South America was for nothing, which explains the sudden interest in other leads.

And renewed interest in the girl who told them about Garza. She swears up and down Garza was there, that it should’ve been fairly easy, and no amount of questioning gets a different answer from her. I thankfully don’t have duty during that round, stuck with the counselor instead.

He’s still so inquisitive, as if I’m going to drop every lie I’ve crafted and divulge everything.

I took a shift overnight doing rounds in the upper levels so I’m tired but mostly alert on my trip back to the dorm. Rey’s waiting for me and we head to breakfast, her grumpy and disheveled and me living on nerves. Her brother said he’d seek me out but hasn’t yet. I’m not sure if I imagined that part of the conversation. It does seem out of character for him. Maybe I do need more sleep.

We find a table in the cafeteria, mulling over our food. A quick scan of the room verifies Maks sits with the other comms in their own corner, heads bent together in discussion. Since his return their group has grown much more serious, more rigid. Singh even cancelled any follow up meetings with me, deeming me fine. If he’d let counseling go I might thank him but he hasn’t done that yet.

“They seem antsy,” I murmur to Rey upon turning back, chugging coffee. Rey watches me, smirking.

“So do you. You need more downers?”

I did crack recently and take a few. They help but the sluggish hangover afterward isn’t pleasant, confirming my dislike for them. I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m just saying, you know, they’re usually so fake about everything and now suddenly it’s all business.”

“They’re probably scared,” she quietly replies, paying attention to her plate. “If they didn’t find that guy they probably didn’t leave unscathed, either. They probably don’t want another Sao Paolo on their hands.”

What’s she talking about? My gaze flits up to her, heart skipping anxiously. “They took it?”

“Flattened it,” she demurs. We go silent a moment, picking at our food. My heart hurts. I had family there. I need to send my mom a message. Today.

Then I wince, fork set down. “Why? There’s nothing—I mean, there’s a base but that’s like…damn.”

Catching my disdain Rey’s shoulders hunch like she doesn’t understand. “Remember? We heard about that last week. I dunno, I guess they thought it was important.”

No, I don’t. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Pushing my plate away I swivel around the bench. I don’t feel well anymore, like she just gave me a good idea of what’s going to happen soon at home. It’s too close.

“I’m gonna…message my mom,” I tell her, abruptly stepping away. “See you for dinner, ye?”

That’ll be my breakfast. I head to the rec area in search of a tablet. They’re all in use so I head to my room, plotting out how to tell her what’s going on. By the time I reach my door that buzz from both caffeine and exhaustion is hitting. Entering I’m relieved my roommates are already gone, the place belonging to myself and myself alone. Stripping down to my pants and bra I search for a towel, ready to shower and get comfortable.

Two knocks thud on the door. Pausing in front of my things I look to it, veins constricting. That’s our code. He waited too long, I shouldn’t respond. Really, definitely shouldn’t. Besides, he ratted me out to Singh. Yet it did get me out of interrogation for some time. Still…he looked so good a couple days ago.

I carefully open the door a notch, peek out. Maks’ face overwhelms the small opening, lids lowered, intense gaze finding and catching mine.

“Baby,” he smoothly breathes. My gut squeezes in want. “Let me in. Please?”

The politeness is an afterthought but I allow it, letting him slip in before shutting the door tight. Leaning on it I watch him make a small circle. He’s clearly not enthused about how small our beds are.

“You wanted to talk,” I remind him, taking note he’s kept his hands to himself so far. For him this is a record. He nods as if that’s exactly what he wanted to do.

“Ye, ye.” Both hands shove into his pockets. He can’t keep his eyes from wandering over my frame. “Ah…you haven’t…haven’t seen me, lately.”

“You were gone,” I bluntly answer. It’s a convenient fact, one to push him into speaking and not me. I’ve seen him at work, know how to manipulate. He catches himself before he does, carefully thinking over his words, offering a slight grin.

“You learn quick,” he murmurs, stepping forward. The room becomes impossibly cramped. “But…before. Did I…?”

Did he do something I didn’t appreciate? That’s what he’s trying to say. Men are such pussies. My hand sharply connects with his cheek, anger pushing through the other stupid convictions I have about him. I’ve been holding that in for weeks now. Maks’ jaw pops open, head whipping back to face me with a look of utter rage.

He closes the short gap between us, hip pressing against my stomach, looking down his nose at me. “What the fuck was that for?”

The subtle lilt in his voice is unmistakeable. I know what I’m doing, wanted that reaction from him. But what I want more is to punish him. Given there’s nowhere to go my hands go up and I clap my hand over his cheek, heated skin my reward. Maks’ hand immediately covers mine, still staring at me. Demanding answers.

“Welcome back,” I hiss, pushing as much venom into my words as I can. It’s not very effective. “Still think I’m crazy?”

His eyes jump, recognizes what I mean. Head rolling in my hand he presses harder into me. “Crazy’s sexy as hell, baby. Turns me on.”

Given what’s throbbing against my belly I’m fully aware. My breath quickens, mind changing. He’s staring at me so hard, lips so close to mine. I guess it turns me on, too, though his is very different.

“Everything turns you on,” I grumble between my teeth, tilting my chin until my lips brush over his jaw. A strangled rumble emanates from him. My hand’s lowered with his while he dips, placing a hard kiss on my mouth. I want to melt right then but can’t, not in here, not when his other hand’s found the nape of my neck, fingers splayed and lacing through my hair.

“Not everything,” he corrects in a quick break, forehead pressing to mine, pleased to have eliminated any personal space. “Just you. God, if I’d waited a couple more minutes you’d be naked for me, wouldn’t you?”

I push at his chest, brow furrowing. He did wrong, he can’t get away with manipulating me like that just because I find him attractive. But…pushing only encourages his behavior, which gets me going as well. His hand lets go of mine to clasp around my waist, pulling me flush with him. I use that time to curl my upper lip, offer a dirty sneer and nip at his lower lip. He bites back, and suddenly it’s as if nothing’s changed.

“Oh my God, baby,” he hisses into my mouth, overwhelming my senses, body closing in on me. Everything about me is trapped, his fingers firmly roaming over my skin, dipping lower and lower until he’s pushed past my pants and into my panties. “I need you. Need to feel your tight little pussy, need to hear those fucking cute sounds you make.”

Which he’s already doing, palming my slit, parting it’s folds and slipping several digits in. My hips buck involuntarily and I whine, wishing we’d been doing this all along. Sleep, everything else, can wait. I really hate that I can’t keep myself from refusing. It shouldn’t be this hard but it is.

“Do it,” I encourage, whimpering while his fingers vibrate inside me, searching for the sweet spot that makes me incoherent. “Mm, please, sir.”

Growling he moves to my throat, sucking on soft skin, leaving a trail of red welts. If he pushed me much harder into the door I don’t think I’d be able to breathe. His boots circle my feet, giving me nowhere to go.

“You didn’t seem very happy to see me,” he murmurs, tongue ghosting over my earlobe. “Don’t know if I should.”

Huffing, my teeth find his chin. He utters a soft chortle, pleased to see I’m playing along.

“Did you miss me, baby?”

His fingers stroke deep, thumb circling my clit. I’m panting, a fire building in my core and quickly spreading. “No.”

“No?” He stops, nuzzling my hairline. “I don’t believe that. Tell me the truth, baby.”

I didn’t. I didn’t miss him at all, was glad he was gone. The only thing I missed about him was that comfortable bed of his, and his…his touch, his hold, the way his breaths matched mine when we were finished. There’s no way I’m admitting that, offering an uncommitted nod instead. His smile curls on my neck.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

In here? No, there’s nowhere to be alone in this goddamned facility and if I was in my room I was trying to sleep. My hips move with his hand with a mind of their own. “No.”

He groans, holds me tighter, bites down on my flesh. It gets a cry from me, exactly what he wanted, pressure increasing within me. “Mm, baby. No wonder you’re a mess.”

He bears down, working harder, fingers strumming me until I’m on the edge and pushed right over. It’s the fastest he’s gotten me to come but I’m not complaining, doing my best to keep my cries quiet instead. The wave washes across my limbs and I lean into him, lids fluttering shut and letting him hold me up with his weight. He’s laughing that soft laugh, still rubbing against me like he can’t control himself. Honestly I don’t think he can, not when we’re alone.

Coming down I reach to wrap my arms around his neck, deliriously pleased he’s come to me. Who cares if I haven’t showered? I just want him to pull out his cock. My bed, I guess, can work for this. The floor could, too, or he can fuck me on the door. I’d be down for that. Why didn’t I say no to this?

Hand leaving my panties he brings it up to his mouth, suggestively licks several digits, then offers them to me. I suck on them without being asked, already aware that’s what he wants to see. It pulls lust over his eyes, hooding them, his hips pressed tight to my body in case I wasn’t aware what this does to him.

“You,” he breathes, “and me, we should talk more often.”

I’d like that very much. Logistically that’s probably not possible. I nod my head, blink innocent eyes at him. His other hand wanders over my skin, sliding beneath my bra. Playfully biting on his fingers I roll against him.

He offers a wolfish grin, takes back his fingers and pushes on my shoulders. I sink to my knees without further instruction, impatiently wait until he draws back and unbuckles his pants. He’s taking too long so I help, scrabbling with fabric until his cock is free. My hands cradle it a moment, heart settling a bit. My tongue experimentally lathes over the head, and I find I’m smiling too once he sucks in his lower lip. I take him in my mouth before he can pull away (as if he would), tongue going flat along his length.

His hands find my hair again, pushing himself deeper into me. I accommodate where I can, more than willing to keep him here, his hands on me, sweet murmurs erupting from his lips, his head rolling back. I haven’t been the only one who hasn’t touched themselves lately, though I’m sure it’s easier for him if he really wanted to. Bobbing up and down I pretend I’m a confident woman, someone who can make a man come this way, though in truth I’m not sure if I can. He doesn’t seem to mind, continuously encouraging me with sweet, hushed grunts, pleasure consuming him. I cup his balls, massaging them, pleased I can make him experience this.

Soon he’s thrusting into my mouth, member swelling, tightening. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

I nod, tongue pressing deeper, melting a little when he moans desperately. His fingers tighten in my hair, holds me closer, tip of his cock jammed in the back of my throat. I don’t breathe, can’t at the moment anyway, stomach fluttering as he picks up his pace. Soon his cock jerks, twitches, come flooding my mouth, Maks’ husky groan echoing through the room. He bears down, grip determined to keep me as I am.

When I look up at himI’m treated to the greatest view. I see someone lost in desire, completely vulnerable. On his face it looks like something out of a photo shoot, like someone told him to look both hurt and in love at the same time. I swallow what I can. He coos, thumbs stroking my temples, chest rising and falling.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, resting my head against his belly. He keeps stroking me, my hair, anything to keep me close. It feels wonderful, my eyes closing. I want to go to sleep right there, let him deal with the aftermath. “Good, good girl.”

The moment doesn’t last long. Softening, he drops on his haunches to my level, arms circling around my waist. His mouth returns to my swollen lips, tongue lazily toying with mine. My body hums with a flood of sensations that haven’t been felt for some time, calming nerves and bringing peace to angry thoughts.

“We should talk tonight,” he whispers, falling back to his ass, pulling me with until his back stretches on the ground. I collapse on his chest. That sounds like a wonderful, if impractical, idea. I breathe in the crisp scent of his uniform, pretending like I can lay here all day.

“I’m on night rounds,” I tell him, my voice somehow scratchy. He splays a palm between my shoulder blades, plucking at my bra.

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Before breakfast,” I haggle, grinning when he does. He takes a deep breath, nose in my hair.

“We’ll talk then.” Exhaling, he adds, “Can’t wait.”

Exhaustion’s hitting fast, not even caffeine able to keep it at bay. I manage a nod, snuggle against him. “Never tell anyone… _that_ , again.”

His chest rumbles beneath me in gentle laughter. “Never, baby. I get you.”

He better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nobody cares but if anyone's curious Maks won't talk about his time in Santiago, ever. Basically he was the moody Nathan Drake equivalent of their time except he didn't get anything out of the trip besides a nice tan. Personally I think that's where he finally realizes he caught feelings *swooning* .


	23. XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present our couple finally leaves Edin's apartment to embark on their trip abroad. Edin really starts to see what she's dealing with on the way.

Friday, March 14th, 2059

Traffic never dies down to a level Maks is comfortable with so we leave just after midnight. Dread fills me when we exit my home, a backpack the only thing holding my few possessions. I keep my keycard just in case, fight the nerves thrumming beneath my skin. We take the elevator down. Maks turns from it’s camera and looms over me in a back corner, pretending we’re doing something naughty when in reality he’s reminding me to keep breathing, and for God’s sake stop shaking.

I can’t help it. The second we closed the door, the second I lost sight of the pretty, if sterile life I’d surrounded myself with I became naked, exposed. Like it’s only a matter of time now before someone figures out what’s going on and comes to rip it all to shreds.

The elevator spits us out on ground level and we breeze through the complex foyer. Maks grabs my hand and steers me to the right out the secure side door. I’m curious how he got in but figure he followed someone on their way in or out the main gate.

Out on the neon-lit street it’s still fairly warm and humid, sidewalks filled with drunk, late night professionals making their rounds. Nobody pays us attention; we blend in easily. Even so, he navigates to a network of alleys soon as he can. He has an eye for cameras, has to given where he is. I’m sure no one’s going to descend on us immediately, not like a film, but it certainly feels like it.

He weaves through cramped, dirty side streets until we pop out on another main thoroughfare, this one busier than the one lining my complex. It’s near my cafe, too, Over the Moon. I catch it’s filthy painted sign as we pass on the other side of the street, long to head in to at least tell them I’m…quitting, I guess, or something. Maks won’t allow it, said we can’t stop anywhere until we’re out of here. He notices my lagging, looks back and sighs when he sees my dumb stare. He doesn’t mention it, merely pulls me along since Hong Kong will never matter again.

That makes me feel the worst. I’m putting a lot of faith in a guy who just this morning might’ve been alright killing me. This is my life I’m abandoning. Then again, he already deserted what little life he did have to be here. The state will kill him if they catch him. He was only responsible for dozens of valued leaders’ demise.

Yet that does not seem to bother him. With the cafe out of sight I turn my focus on his back, try to memorize his jacket and figure in case I lose him. He strides confidently, doesn’t care who notices him unless it’s a camera. We move quickly around corners, keep our heads down around security posts. I think he’s reckless when he nods politely at several loitering cops but it’s his head, not mine. I already worked out I can pretend I’m being dragged along, forced to go with instead of willingly.

No one ever said I was loyal, which is why he holds my hand the entire trip. I only promised I’d help, not give myself up.

We crawl down the main road for several long blocks, the city’s massive skyline blooming above us in never ending spires. I’ve been in relatively few of these towers, relegated to the lower levels for business or work, or my own apartment. I used to have a sliver of a view of the harbor before they built out past the shore. When we leave city limits it’ll be almost as urban for several hundred kilometers but eventually it’ll become quieter.

How does he plan on traveling to Moscow? Train would make the most sense but a plane would be quicker. That’s out of the question though when we don’t have any proper visas. Why am I panicking about this now? It’s a little late for that.

Halfway through another block he abruptly turns into a near empty noodle shop. This irks me—I made breakfast and dinner and he never ate anything, just coffee—but he walks right past several tables to the front counter, nods at a boy no older than his late teens manning the register. The boy nods back, jabs a thumb at a long cabinet door behind the counter and Maks works around to it, shaking hands with the guy. I’m not stupid—money is exchanged in this process.

He pushes in the door before I can observe anything else and suddenly we’re enveloped in a dim, dank hall, climbing down several flights of stairs and quietly hustling through a maze of cramped, cement tunnels. When we hit a door he punches a code into it’s lockbox and the door clicks. His shoulder nudges it open and we step into a cold garage filled with only a handful of vehicles, our steps echoing off reinforced walls. Once the door shuts behind us he lets me go, shoulders rolling in relief.

“We’re gonna drive to a waypoint forty kilometers northwest, then we’ll board a train. Tickets, passports, whatever we need—I’ve got it.”

I’m too preoccupied wondering how he wormed his way into a garage in the middle of town to care. He couldn’t have figured this all out on his own, or in one day. My eyes search the lot and it’s dormant inhabitants, praying he’s not about to make me ride a bike. “How…how long have you been here?”

He makes a rude noise, steps toward a dark mid-size SUV. “Too long.”

That’s not helpful. Gaze flitting to him I watch him manually unlock the back and begin rifling through several duffel bags.

“How long?”

His back freezes. “Don’t worry about it.”

I hate that answer but know he won’t tell me. Grudgingly following him to the car I cautiously check it out. The back’s only got a few zipped bags but the rest are shopping bags from upscale shops. When did he have time to shop?

He changes, flashing bare skin a second before donning a more casual thermal, then pulls several small booklets from one bag—visas. One’s handed to me and I flip it open, surprised he’s got my picture. It’s the same one as my real ID, but the name’s different, slightly more primed to fit in locally. How he obtained this makes me uncomfortable but I’m sure it wasn’t difficult. Everything else was easy enough for him.

“We,” he loftily starts, “are rich newlyweds from Shenzhen who were on a trip visiting my mother—her name’s Ailin, she has an apartment along the harbor. We’re headed home, hence the bags. Do I need to elaborate?”

“Are we still happy or already in a rut?” I ask seriously, memorizing the address printed on mine. It makes him smirk regardless.

“I’ll take your lead on that. Think you can handle it?”

I’ve created all sorts of illusions, lied about numerous subjects. This shouldn’t be hard so long as I don’t panic. When he reaches to stow my backpack I look to him again, nervous. “What if I fuck up?”

He takes my things, tosses it in and shuts the back, then studies me a good moment. I do the same, the bags beneath his eyes obvious in the garage’s harsh light. When was the last time he slept?

“If you fuck up,” he softly informs me, “I’ll take over. Passenger seat’s yours, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

Subdued for now I do like he says, rounding to the front.


	24. XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't be like Edin, don't abandon your friends for sex. They might resent it.

Sunday, March 19th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

Maks’ heady breaths reign over me, hands digging in my hips as he takes me from behind. He’s naked for once, a byproduct of waking and showering incredibly early, so naturally I’m not even looking at him, head buried in his sheets instead. It’s for the best, muffling the noises coerced out of me. Lost in the moment I can’t help it, insides open and pulling at his cock, trying to gain as much of it as possible.

Lowering, he reaches around, roughly grabs at a breast, rolling a nipple between tight fingers. This isn’t fair, he knows that drives me crazy, squirming against him. He pinches harder, growling how easy it is to make me wet. He was slapped for that earlier, for multiple things really, but it’s not punishing. No, it drives his lust, gets him handling me rougher, and resulting in more pleasure for us both.

Funny how I know more about how to fuck Maks than anything else about him, but I truly don’t care.

His thrusts grow slow, deliberate, and he runs his palms from my breasts down my side, earning a sweet shiver from me. His breath’s warm on my shoulder. He kisses it, teeth scraping over the skin. If my hands weren’t shoved past my head I’d be trying to grab him again, demanding he keep going. But the point, I’ve learned, about keeping my hands tied, is I have to use my words. He enjoys hearing me beg.

I don’t disappoint, either, frustrated he’s practically stopped. “Wh-what are…fuck. Fuck me, please.”

He utters a deviant laugh along my shoulder blade, mouth tracing up to the nape of my neck. “Mm, maybe we should stop then. I don’t think I want you to come, baby, not when you’re fighting me.”

He’s teasing, my hips pushing back on him. His cock rubs so slowly along my clit, reminding me who’s currently in charge. When he administers a sharp slap across my ass my back arches, keening leaving my mouth of it’s own accord. He needs to keep going.

“I’m not,” I whine, panting. Everything about me becomes compliant, impatiently waiting for him to continue. “I need your cock.”

“You need it?” he mockingly questions, delighted. “What do you need it for, baby?”

I’m a mess, rocking back and forth on it while he’s frozen, sheathed within me. One hand’s slowly trickling to my clit, setting me off. I moan when he circles the little button with his thumb, gently stroking it.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs, taking his time drawing in and out, my slit aching every time he’s gone.

“Fuck me,” I beg between breaths, desperate to hit that feeling. “Please, _please_ fuck me, I need it; I need to come.”

“Yeah you do.” He relents, free hand clutching me to him as he begins pushing into me once more, rhythm picking up. His cock swells, heat spreading in my core and blooming across me, so close to the edge. He notices, thrusts more deliberate, pressure on my clit increasing. “Mm, that’s right. Come on my cock, baby.”

He’s so overwhelming, mouth roaming over my backside, fingers strumming me, cock plunging harder. My slit tightens around him, member hitting that sweet spot along my inner walls and I can’t help gasping, euphoria hitting between my hips. My core spasms, a beautiful buzz crashing across my body in a frenzy. Head still buried in the sheets I use them to cover up my cries, unable to think straight while oxytocin floods my veins.

Praising my break he continues, still stroking my sensitive clit, keeping me in a frenzied state. My pussy milks him, teasing him, letting lust consume him. He pounds into me, game forgotten to chase his own high. Gripping me he holds tight, biting on my shoulder, thrusts heavy and loose. My body opens to accept him, a second wave of pleasure pulling over me when he growls against my skin, balls tightening, seed spilling deep within.

I stay pinned beneath him, cooing as his sweaty forehead presses against my neck. Collapsing over me he falls sideways, taking me with. Our hearts pound together for several moments, the room quiet otherwise.

“You good?” he finally pants, body fitting around mine. I nod, backside pushing on him in a stretch. He exhales, clearly spent. “Good.”

He takes it easy, mind cleared, while mine starts up it’s constant loop yet again. If I go to sleep immediately I could potentially get a full six hours, but I need to get breakfast first and there’s a short mandatory meeting for the whole crew afterwards so really, it’ll be four or five hours max. I can do exercise right before my next shift. For whatever reason I do better on night rounds so Obe keeps assigning them to me. That’s fine—we don’t do investigations at night meaning I get to consolidate reports.

“What’s the meeting about?” I softly wonder, already aware he won’t tell me. It’s more to fill the air with something.

“Show up and you’ll see,” he glibly answers, as expected. Grinning, I twist to get a good look at his peaceful face. His gaze finds mine, lopsided smile matching my bliss, a hand reaching to brush stray hair behind my ear. I imagine he enjoys having the unsanctioned privilege of waking up to this every few days.

His gaze lowers, hones in on my breasts, cupping one. My lower lip juts in a pout. I tilt my chin until his mouth meets mine, tongue parting my lips, deftly exploring as he pleases. My muscles relax, dissolving in his embrace. He’s exquisitely warm, heat pulsing against me along with his member. I could lay here for at least several more hours, probably more.

But his link goes off somewhere not in his bed, ruining this immensely enjoyable moment. Untangling himself in an instant Maks lunges over me, stumbling across the room to his desk. He picks the band up, studying it carefully.

I take the moment to study his naked form, grinning at the expansive tattoos covering his muscular chest and shoulders, things I hardly ever see. He’s truly a gorgeous specimen, but given his temperament I can see why Rey would discourage any kind of actual relationship with him. Just because someone can perform in bed doesn’t mean they’re suited for…feelings. I don’t think I am anyway, and neither is he. It’s perfect.

His chest deflates in a sigh, sliding the link on his wrist and turning to me. I must look like an idiot mooning at him because he offers a brief smirk before growing serious. He starts pulling clothes from his dresser.

“Shower,” he suggests, sliding on briefs. “Get dressed. Go catch Rey, we’re moving the meeting back. They’ll send a notice out shortly.”

That’s about as much inside information he’s ever told me outside work. I nod, continue watching him dress. He doesn’t enjoy the attention like I do but slows down, pulling things on as sensuously as possible, aware it turns me on. I bite my lip, imagining his body pulling over mine again, anxiously awaiting our next round.

“You’re so easy to please,” he teases with a shake of the head, skin flush. It’s an interesting look on him. I flash my teeth, knees coming together while my back arches, sore muscles straining.

“You’re just as easy. Same time tomorrow?”

He likes the idea but takes his time answering, zipping up his jacket. “We’ll see. I’ll find you.”

He thinks he’s being smooth when he says that. In reality him seeking me out gives me anxiety, certain he can’t possibly be as careful sneaking about as I am.

Finished, he draws back to the bed and looks me over, a hand curling over my cheek. I lean into his knuckles, letting him pet me.

“Stay until it’s quiet,” he softly cautions, like this is my first time, abandoning me for the door. I watch his backside as he slips out, inappropriately proud of myself for sleeping with him. Why not? What else do I have to enjoy here?

If I lay in bed too long I’ll doze off so I get up and take a quick shower, pulling on my previous shift’s uniform. Still buzzing I lean on the door, acutely listening until the hall goes silent. Once it does I slip out, carefully tiptoeing back out into the main halls. Back at my dorm I change and comb my hair, then it’s back to the rec area in search of Rey.

She’s already in the cafeteria. My link goes off the same time as hers when I enter, indicating our meeting’s delayed. Grabbing a tray I join her at one of the tables we usually commandeer, chugging down my coffee the second I’m sitting.

“You look chipper,” she comments across from me, picking at her plate. I probably do, forcing myself to tone it down.

“Endorphins from exercise, I guess. How’d yesterday go?”

Not bothering to look at me she shrugs. “Fine. Busy.” Her fork stabs at mushy eggs and she dares lift her line of sight. “Where were you this morning? I thought you got off at four.”

I slowly set down my cup, swallowing and thinking hard. I’m too tired to come up with anything good and settle for whatever first comes to mind: deflection. Don’t let the interrogator become the interrogated. “Ye, it took a bit longer than expected. Why? Did you want to work out together?” We do that when we can, and sometimes she’ll drag me with her in the morning to get mine done early.

“Yeah but I guess you already went,” she grumbles, eyes back on her eggs. “Guess we just missed each other.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, meaning it. I feel like a bitch now, neglecting friends for sex. “What about tomorrow? I’ve got the same shift.”

Rey stares at my plate a moment. I can tell she wants to say something but doesn’t want to actually…say it. I’m too much of a pussy to ask what’s wrong.

“Sure,” she finally allows, letting it go for now. “We can catch up then. I need your opinion on something though in the meantime.”

We spend our breakfast going over the pros and cons of her continuing correspondence with Devin. On one hand he’s still a sweetheart but on the other she feels like he’s trying to keep it platonic whereas she’d like to make it more than that. I’m of the opinion she should tell him how she feels (it’s not like she’s got much to lose) but we both can’t come up with a good way to say so without her being blunt. We still haven’t analyzed the situation enough when both our links buzz again, indicating we head to the main rec area.

We follow a steady stream of coworkers in, hanging in the back on a stark wall. It’s the same gigantic room Gabale, Hernandez and myself first met the comm team in charge of the facility. All leading comms are lined up against the far wall, Singh standing on a chair so he can do a general head count. When I look around I see our facility’s larger than I realize, with about two hundred of us milling about in various uniforms indicating our status. After the last stragglers arrive Singh clears his throat, greets us in a firm yet gentle voice.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” he starts, hands clasped behind his back. “But, I do want to thank you all again for the incredibly commitment you’ve made here. There’s no easy way to report this. I’m sure some of you have heard rumors surrounding our current positions. Those aren’t rumors, unfortunately. Within the past week La Raz, the South American lead, has claimed Venezuela and Brazil alongside Colombia. Granted, Brazil’s too large to consider this a complete coup but at this time we have shifted focus and stepped back. For the time being our focus will return to the East until we can rebolster efforts.”

“Guys, I know this is a blow but consider our position in Shanghai. We stand firm in the east, will continue to do so. We’re still making headway and we’re not going anywhere until we level the field. Our jobs are more important than ever, and expect more units as we receive shipments from the south.”

Given the room’s deathly quiet Singh takes a deep breath, sighs. “I know a lot of you hail from the region. We haven’t gotten much word yet but from what we do know Rio is out of commission, as is Caracas. Coastal cities were hit hardest. If you haven’t spoken with home recently I suggest you take time to do it today. Again, we don’t have much on stats yet but we’ll update you soon as we can. This isn’t over guys. We knew the South was gonna be hard turf to hold. It’ll return to us once we can concentrate our efforts.”

I don’t realize I’m leaning against Rey until she sniffs, lower lip quivering. Grabbing her hand I give it a squeeze, my own thoughts reeling. Our home is…likely under enemy control. What about my mom—Rey’s family? Everyone we know who didn’t get suckered into this? Singh said the coast was hit hardest, which brings visions of the destruction we saw in Egypt to mind, but worse. Everything’s crammed together at home. If one complex collapses so does the whole block. I sent my mom a message last week but haven’t heard back yet, though that’s normal given lack of resources lately. What if home’s affected? What if I never see her again? These thoughts have flouted around since I signed on but now…now they hit harder.

Singh says some more things but we aren’t listening. Rey’s blinking hard to keep tears at bay so I gently escort her out of the hall before we’re dismissed, an arm around her shoulder and hoping to do damage control.

“It’s fine,” I tell her, sure she doesn’t believe me but what else would I say? “They’re with your uncle, right?”

Her extended family lives somewhere more inland, I think. Why am I even thinking about them? What about my mom? a voice deep down angrily snaps at me to not think about her. It won’t do any good, not here.

Distracted, she nods. “Ye, ye. They’re outside Fortaleza. Fuck Edin, what am I…how could they let that happen? I mean…this is a joke, right? Why the fuck would he tell us this shit?”

How would I know? The counselor would probably have a good answer but I don’t.

We sit in the hall, it’s floor slowly filling with more soldiers as they’re dismissed. It’s weird to know we’re losing. Well, Singh didn’t phrase it that way but that’s what it is. What happens when everything’s over? Where do we go? I don’t want to stay in Canada, don’t care if it’s our stronghold on the continent. I thought…thought I’d go home, eventually.

It’s only been a little less than two years since I joined but it feels like forever. To think this will go on longer is mind numbing.

“Rey.” Maks’ voice cuts through the hall’s sober mutterings. We both look up to see him pausing in front of us, and I think it registers with Rey at that exact moment he could end up being the only family she has left in the near future. She leans into me, reproachfully glaring up his way.

“I just talked to mum,” he quietly tells her, squatting on his haunches. His tone is far from formal. “They’re good, don’t worry.”

The perks of being a comm must’ve given him that kind of immediate access. Rey physically relaxes in my grip but she doesn’t move. She eyes his boots, thinking carefully.

“Can I call her?”

He appears annoyed but nods, unable to deny her. “Ye. Come with me.”

The amount of dislike she has for him isn’t enough to refuse the opportunity. Excusing herself she gets up, says she’ll see me at dinner. I watch them go, my body cold where she’s just left me. It keeps traveling, moving to my chest. I should head to my room to try and get some sleep or at least snag a tablet to send my mom another message but I don’t have the energy to get up. I just…have a bad feeling about this.


	25. XXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So things may not be looking that good at home..

Monday, April 3rd, 2056, Camp Bhutan

“My gut’s never betrayed me before.” I tell the counselor this in perhaps my only moment of honesty. He does that thing where he jots notes on his tablet, fixes me with a gentle yet neutral look. That type of behavior makes me want to slam my head against the wall.

“Care to tell me a time it’s happened before?”

I stare back, uncomfortable. No. My mom’s dead, her body likely trapped forever in our building’s rubble, and I’m thousands of kilometers away, unable to do anything about it. I’ve been in a daze all week, ever since I was notified, this horrible information settling on my shoulders and refusing to leave.

“Not really,” I whisper, slumping in my seat. The counselor’s office is quite calming but I don’t need calming. Every bit of meis numb since I was given the concrete status on what was left of my family. I’ve taken every spare shift possible to keep busy, done everything to not think. So far it’s sort of working, I guess.

“Sorry,” I tell him, gaze in my lap. “My mom…was my entire family. I mean, my dad’s supposed to be in LA but I don’t know him so…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Of course,” he replied, too understanding for my paranoia to consider genuine. “Take it easy, Bashir. How do you feel you’ve processed this so far?”

Fairly well, honestly, since I’m ignoring it entirely. Nothing else helps. Crying didn’t, punching myself, the aforementioned slamming my head against a wall…nothing works. I have no family. My entire life is here now yet I haven’t even told Rey about my mom. I don’t want to, won’t give her that to worry over. Besides, I’m sure she already knows. I’m not that hard to read.

When I don’t answer he prods again. “Have you…told anyone?” My head shake shouldn’t surprise him. “Why not? Do you feel like sharing this might hurt others?”

Of course. What does it matter though? My mom passed, never knowing my involvement in Bogota or here, and now I get to live without knowing her final moments. It’s a cruel, yet fair, trade off. That makes my eyes water and I push my emotions down, desperate to keep them contained. If they’re not contained paranoia gets the better of me, convinces my heart to race and my thoughts to spiral out of control.

“I just…don’t want to,” I tell him, casually wiping at my cheeks. I’d like to go back to my room now. Rey’s downers are suddenly incredibly helpful as of late.

The counselor leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. “Edin. You’re not the only one feeling this way. It’s okay to feel how you’re feeling. Bottling it up damages your ability to cope.”

He’s wrong.

We go back and forth for another half hour but he doesn’t get much else out of me. I’m only here because Singh ‘suggested’ it. When I’m dismissed I head straight for my room. Another girl is in there, already asleep. She probably had a night shift, too. I don’t pay her attention, find the stash of pills Rey’s saved for me, take a couple, and then huddle under my covers, waiting. Waiting for the chemicals to kick in and pull me from this place.


	26. XXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gee, it sure is weird Rey's at the same facility as her brother, sure is weird he's able to look after her for near the entire time of her service. Yeah, Edin's just now picking up on these things. There may be a little conspiracy afoot.

Wednesday, April 12th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

There’s no such thing as spring here. Once the snowpack melts summer hits hard, driving up the temperature even in the facility. I spend forever coaxing certain comms into giving me outside shifts, Singh allowing it on the grounds it’ll do my psyche good. Despite the sweltering, humid conditions I’m incredibly relieved to be out here.

Far from Rey, far from my thoughts. Out here everything is so expansive, overwhelming. It keeps my head busy.

It’s beautiful around the facility. Trees flower, everything grows like mad, and pollen covers everything in a light gold sheen. Even if it gives me a headache I love every moment outside.

My skin’s angry and red like usual when I finish my morning shift, heading inside to shower off, apply skin reparation, and eat. Rey’s already waiting for me at my door, a bag in hand from our in-house pharmacy. She’s my drug dealer, though she doesn’t enjoy my calling her that. She hands them off once my door opens, following me in and rattling off instructions on several different downers.

Mostly her warnings are to remind me I’d better not try anything stupid like Gabale did. I could never, not when she’s the one supplying me. Besides, I think I’ve become more religious since coming here. I’ve heard Gabale couldn’t go to heaven, not when he did what he did.

I should’ve used her supply earlier, sleep coming way easier with them than dealing with Maks. He’s busy anyway, schedule a mess of meetings and interrogations, managing downstairs at an accelerated rate. We have new recruits now, relieving a lot of duties so I barely see him even on duty down there. It’s for the best.

“They really need to send alcohol on their next shipment,” Rey complains, perched on my bed, ignoring me while I strip. “Like yes, I understand resources, budgeting, blah, blah, blah, but it’d do us good. Do my comm good. She’s a goddamned rubber band right now, all these bodies we’re going through.”

I let that thought slide right out of my head, pretend she never even said it. It’s not my responsibility, not my problem. I make reports. If I think about it any further I’m going to be asking for more than just downers. “Something hard would be nice. Anything to pretend we’re in civilization, ye?”

“Oh my god, we’re wasting our lives here,” she dramatically moans, getting a laugh out of me. “Wish we lived somewhere near, like, a town or something. Somewhere we could at least leave the perimeter.”

“They should rotate us more,” I suggest, smirking. “It’d liven things up. Can you imagine? It’d be all sorts of chaos.”

She entertains the idea while I change and grab my towel. Then, as if it just occurs to her she adds, “But then we might revolt. Dunno about you but I’m not interested in…whatever it is you and Maks do.”

Several weeks ago I would’ve sweated her words but my emotions are numb, paranoia stagnant. I shrug, pull my hair out of it’s ponytail. “It’s…eh, no, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, either. Hey, speaking of bad, what’s up with that guy on your crew? He looks like he got burned.”

Her eyes widen and she gets up, following me out the door for the showers. If our conversation continues while I shower it wouldn’t be the first time. “Uh, weirdest thing. He was handling some shit in the lab, right? The centrifuge broke and all this shit splattered on him. Guess it was acidic if he’s got all those gouges now.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust. We keep walking, round the corner and to the showers. Up ahead I spy Basman and Shen talking, a gaggle of new recruits timidly standing by. Sensing his sister he looks our way, catches me beside her, gaze lingering a second before flitting back to Shen. I only caught it because I was involuntarily ogling him. It can’t be helped, even when I’m not particularly interested. Rey’s very good at ignoring him however, still telling me how this guy was bleeding and everything in the lab for several minutes before they found something to make it stop.

“Anyway, it was wild,” she finishes, tiptoeing into the women’s showers, covering her eyes because last time she did someone complained. It’s not very busy though given the hour. “Probably the most exciting thing that’s happened in a while and now they won’t even let him near those machines.”

“Would he want to be near them?” I wonder, thoughtful, pulling off my clothes and handing them to her for safekeeping. “I mean, I don’t think I’d want to go near it again.”

“You would think,” she sighs, “but no, he wants back on that as soon as possible. Doesn’t like doing the alternative.” Quieting, she glances back my way and then around the showers. “Yo, you need to stop. You look horrible. I thought you quit that shit.”

I dunk my head under the spigot, give myself some time to craft a good answer. I’ve told her I can’t help it, scratching at myself sometimes until I bleed, but I do _not_ want to go over this with her again. How am I supposed to stop something I don’t even know I’m doing until it’s too late?

“You worry me,” she goes on when I’m more available, making me incredibly uncomfortable. “Like, you just seem so…different now.”

Different means she’s not sure how to help me, not sure how to approach me anymore. It’s true, I know it is. I haven’t been the same since Bogota, honestly, but what am I supposed to do? I lather up, working quickly.

“Dude, I’m seeing the counselor. I’m fine.”

“Ye but like that,” she points out, kicking at the tile. “You don’t answer anything. It’s this place, right? It has to be, it makes me nuts, too.”

The idea of her going nuts isn’t even fathomable. Rey gets upset and has her moments but a legit meltdown isn’t in her. Well, I’ve only seen it once, and it’s damn never happening again if I have any say in it.

“We’re fine,” I insist, ducking under the water again. “You’re right, it’s just being cooped up. But the year’s almost half over, right? Maybe we’ll transfer next year, go somewhere better.”

“Right,” she flippantly dismisses. “Devin says he’s in sort of the same bind. They need to let us out more, give us fresh air.”

“Take shifts on the perimeter,” I suggest, finishing up. “It makes me feel…less worse.”

She scoffs. “I’d have to do a refresher on firearms. I don’t…don’t want to.”

My head ducks out of the stall, brow raised. “What do you—when’s the last time you used one?”

“Actively?” she shyly wonders. I’m sure she’s wishing she hadn’t brought this up now. “Cairo. I’ve just been in Medical here. It’s not like I need one.”

“But what if we’re compromised?”

She shrugs. “It’s not that hard to figure out.”

On one hand she’s right about not needing to keep trained but on the other hand, what good is she should anything happen? Does her brother know about this? Drying off I don’t question it but something about that bothers me. Doesn’t everyone have the same expectations?

When she hands back my clothes I carefully sneak a look at her, worried. She’s bored as hell here, isn’t given any opportunity to do anything unless it’s in Med. Given our short staffing until recently everyone was getting put everywhere. Not everyone has their brother working behind the scenes, either.

I don’t have the guts to ask if she’s asking him for help, sure I already know the answer. Maybe she didn’t need to ask. Am I missing something? I feel like I’ve been in a fog, consumed in my own issues and now I don’t know what’s going on with her.

It’s like a switch goes off in my head, reminding me of the amount of time I’ve wasted for nothing. My family is basically her at this point. Can I afford to push her off? As we head out the showers I feel completely different, more vigilant, like I’ve regained some purpose. All this time I could’ve been more interested in what’s going on with her, could’ve deflected all the stupid worry she has about me back at her.

In the hall my eyes automatically check to see if Basman is still down the hall. He is, gaze checking first to Rey and then me again. When I turn back Rey’s already on a new topic, so I follow her back to my dorm. I feel like I’m looking at something that doesn’t make sense. What am I missing?


	27. XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW-torture, graphic violence. The only interrogation Edin has an incredibly hard time stomaching. Basman can't puppy-dog-eye his way out of this one, either.

Thursday, April 27th, 2056, Camp Bhutan

The heat becomes unbearable yet I spend half my days out there on patrols regardless…when they’ll let me go. The rest is in reporting and observing, investigations becoming so routine I’m not even bothered by their gruesome exterior anymore.

It’s pointless to think about so I don’t, instead focusing on Rey. I watch her, try and figure out what’s bugging her because something clearly is. The stupid thing is we’re both stubborn, will share what we think is important, but hide the things we think we should be embarrassed by. It’s why we haven’t talked about my mom. Since, like me, she doesn’t want to talk about whatever occupies her we carefully keep one another company, confide in one another what we can, and the days crawl by.

Today I’m out in the afternoon sun hidden between some shrubs. My face bakes, blissfully painful, majority of my skin drenched in sweat. It’s way too hot out but it feels good, gives me something to preoccupy myself with. My link vibrates and I check it, perturbed to see Basman calling several of us down to the prison for an impromptu interrogation. It’s short notice and I…will most likely be late given how far out I am.

I send word to Shen and Obe that I’m needed elsewhere, then duck back toward the facility amidst the low whistle of heat and chirping insects. Inside it’s exponentially cooler but I feel like I’m blind, banging into things on my way downstairs looking a hot, drenched mess. Basman’s waiting in front of the adjacent rooms where we normally meets, arms crossed. He sneers as I trot over.

“Took your time.”

I don’t bother excusing myself, looking around him. The rest of our team’s already here, murmuring to one another in the observation room. “Sorry, sir.”

“Stay,” he growls beneath his breath before I head in. I do, dropping to one knee to retie a boot. “You good?”

Why does he always ask things like that? “Yes, sir.”

“You sure?”

“Better than ever, sir,” I demur, fixing the other boot while I’m down here.

“Good.” He’s silent a moment, then adds, “Keep that in mind. I want you guarding in here, want you listening to what they say. This one? This one’s why you’re here.”

None of that is comforting. Looking up I try to find something to say but he’s already turned for the door, ready to address the others. Rising, I follow him in, apologizing to Miri for being late too and taking a spot along the back wall. I know it intimately by now, look at it a lot when I can’t stand watching during previous interrogations.

“We’re bringing in Garza,” Basman informs us all, diving right in, dead serious. “If you’ve served in the south you might have heard of him, might’ve seen him. He’s very high on La Raz’s ladder, a lot of fuckers answer to him. Don’t speak of his capture to anyone outside this room, don’t speak about him at all outside this room.”

The six or seven of us crowding around him slowly nod. I’m confused about what he said to me in the hall. I didn’t know Garza, never knew or heard of him in Bogota. What does this have to do with me?

“He’s giving us info today or he’s not leaving the other room,” Basman continues. “Primarily, we’re looking for locations and names but _none of you_ will speak, or interact, with him. Understand? Myself or Comm Miri will do that. If you’re in the observation room take notes, watch what he does, how he ticks. If you’re in with us, listen to everything he says—do _not_ engage with him.”

The room’s silent. Basman studies each of us, gaze passing over me just as quickly as anyone else. I try to show I’m ready but I’m really confused. “To be clear, any information we learn today is not official and nothing may leave this room. Piss, eat, get a drink, whatever you need to do, but be back in five minutes. We’re gonna be here a while.”

I wish he hadn’t spoken to me before heading in. I cut to the closest washroom and wash my face, retie my hair back. I still look ridiculous but at least I’m here. When we regather Basman chooses myself and three more of the newer recruits as guards, himself and Miri heading the investigation. We’re given the cell number to collect Garza. On our way, passing through halls upon halls of quiet, secure doors, I wonder who this guy is.

When Basman asked me to pull reports surrounding a specific prisoner previously I thought perhaps they were going in the wrong direction. Reading through each investigation made me assume that, anyway. Yet, the woman he called Mahv spoke of Garza, and I guess the other guy Basman returned to interrogating several more times pointed to him, too. From what I understand this Garza is a very powerful person. But that can’t be the case. I’ve literally never heard of this man until recently.

But, I know who he is when we pull him from his cell, my teammates cuffing and chaining him, slapping a burlap sack over his face when he begins shouting at us. He had a chance to see us, viewed each and every one of us, recognizing none. I recognize him.

I know him.

My heart’s pounding on the way back to interrogation, head furiously pulling memories I’ve tried very hard to block out. The woman who ran Manzinoles worked with him, he was there. He was present during interrogations. He chose who was taken out of the pits, chose who was disposed of and who was questioned.

My ears ring painfully, body shivering when we return, carefully attaching him to the interrogation room’s wall. In my mind’s eye I’m forced down in a chair, two very large, very intimidating men suddenly centimeters from my face, their breath stinging when it hits my face. They want answers, I know that’s what they want, but I can’t hear what they’re saying, don’t know anything. I’m sure I screamed back because they hit pretty hard, but nothing’s ever learned from me. I simply cry, pathetically inept and clearly don’t belong there.

He’s the one who cut at his throat with a hand, nodded to get me out of a stark grey room not unlike the one I’m in now. In my place several soldiers are brought in, never coming back out. I’m taken back to the pits but not before my escorts take their aggression out on me. The entire time I know I’m screaming at them, but I can’t hear anything beyond that fucking ringing throbbing in my ears.

This process happens several more times, a different outcome each time but always resulting in me being sent back to the other prisoners until eventually, miraculously, our camp is freed. Not before half of us are dead.

In the interrogation room I take my place near the door, keep my gaze trained on cracks in the ceiling. Basman yanks off Garza’s hood, a sadistically bright smile plastered across his face. At first it’s obvious his victim wants to mouth off but something prevents him from doing so. For once, an investigation begins quietly.

“Stefan Garza,” he enunciates, towering over this man. Garza isn’t a small person, but he is compared to Basman. Looking around wildly he’s likely counting how many of us outnumber him. Basman’s smile doesn’t change. “Been looking for you for a while. How’d you enjoy that lake house? Probably pretty good right until they stuffed you in a duffel bag, ye?”

At first Garza goes the same route most people do, pretending they don’t understand Basman and complaining, demanding to speak with someone else. Basman doesn’t budge, tsk-ing emphatically.

“Garza, don’t give me that bullshit. You speak what I speak. Let’s get going, shall we? Want to know why you’re here?”

Garza doesn’t say anything, keeps looking at anyone who isn’t Basman. Miri steps next to him, offers their victim a cocked look.

“We hear you’re the one everybody answers to,” she soothes, spelling it out. “Gave the orders in Bogota, in Sao Paolo…forced radio silence when your buddies needed it. You get paid a lot to pull off such large operations, don’t you? Sure hope so. Can’t afford a mansion on the coast otherwise, can’t send your baby girl to some prestigious school so she doesn’t end up like daddy.”

He focuses on her, blood draining from his face. She’s hit a sore spot and knows it. They haven’t even spoken for a minute and he’s already scared. My own blood boils, furious he could be so weak. Me, I understand. I didn’t know what was going on. He does. He’s watched interrogations from his own side, felt bold enough to decide who survived or was sent back to the pits. My jaw starts aching I’m grinding my teeth so hard.

When he still says nothing both Basman and Miri switch to Spanish, listing back and forth what they believe Garza’s responsible for. I understand some of it. They’re being incredibly fake and sweet, as if they’re also surprised he’s here. Part of me is certain they definitely know how he landed here, apparently in a duffel bag. How could they not?

Eventually something Miri says causes Garza to shake his head, muttering a refusal. This intrigues my team, both interrogators stepping closer. Both have been very chaste thus far; Garza hasn’t even been touched.

Basman murmurs another question. When it goes unanswered the nice streak ends. His knee goes straight for Garza’s gut, connecting hard. After he chokes out a strangled cry Garza yields immediately, seemingly finding his limits. _I_ want to hit him again for being so weak.

“Okay, okay,” he spits, panting. “Look, I know…know this looks bad but I’m _not_ —not the guy you want.”

“Liar!” someone snaps, their voice cracking across the room. To my surprise it’s not me. One of the other guards, a new girl, abandons her post to scream at him. She looks rabid, hand reaching for her baton. “How dare you fucking say that. I saw you—my squad _burned_ because of you! They—!”

In an instant Basman shoves her away and out the room, door banging behind them. Miri keeps watch, smiling while Garza quivers.

“Crazy,” she comments, pleased. “Seems to me we got exactly who we wanted. Garza, we want names. We want codes, and we want headquarters. How much do you value your life? Your family? I heard your wife’s quite uncooperative. I mean…you know what happens to women in captivity.”

What a horrendous thing to say yet it’s highly effective. Garza lunges forward, fighting his bonds, snapping at her.

“She has nothing to do with this! Touch a hair on her and I’ll destroy you!”

“So brave,” purrs Miri, undeterred even when Basman returns on his own. He takes up his position like he never left. “We’ll be sure to tell the team holding her you swore that. Maybe it’ll make her feel better when they’re tearing the flesh off her fingers.”

That’s disgusting. I hope they’d never actually do that but I have doubts. They’d do anything to get what they want.

His side would do that same.

Garza swears at them, beginning a long back and forth between the three for what feels like forever, punctuated by Basman growing short with him. Thunderous barking and angry hits become the norm, Garza slowly becoming nothing more than a punching bag. My stomach flips constantly. I thought he was weak but he’s not, he uses his facade as a distraction. Basman and Miri figured this out much sooner than I did.

Miri plays the cool cop, does it very well. She never loses her temper, always offers Garza a chance to give her answers. He consistently refuses but at least she asks. Basman stopped asking long ago, demanding what he wants.

It gets worse when they bring tools into the mix. They stalled for a long time on that front, presumably as a last resort, but two hours into this and Basman’s not messing around any longer. The hood’s pulled back over Garza’s beaten face. He’s hit more, Basman voicing very specific threats to him in the process. He’s blasted with frigid water, Basman focusing on his face for far too long, nearly drowning him before touching on pressure points, soaking his jumpsuit. Once he’s cold and stinging a knife is rotated in, carefully traced along his neck, bites into an earlobe. Miri keeps asking for information and he keeps refusing, always having some kind of excuse. If he’d talk he’d avoid a good deal of torture.

But he can’t. He’s a leader. The second he gives in is the second we make major headway. His sole responsibility is to not speak.

My head aches, knees weak from standing in one place, motionless, for so long. There’s only so much torture I can be shocked by, anticipating the breath drawing from Garza’s chest when Basman flaunts a torch. Everyone’s so afraid of that. I have yet to see it in action; no one’s ever wanted to experience it.

Garza, however, is different.

“Go ahead,” he slurs, slumped on the wall. He’s breathing heavily, wheezing. Basman took his hood off earlier, eager to see his fear. It’s not there, an indifference taking hold instead. “I don’t care. Tell Roslin I love her, she knows what she got into.”

“Oh no,” Basman backtracks, mocking him. “We’re not here to kill you. Did I say anything about killing him?” Miri’s head shakes. “See? You’re gonna be A-okay, buddy. Eventually. There are worse things than death—but you already knew that. Already told my people that.”

“I have nothing to tell you,” Garza chokes out. He’s immune to our ways.

Until he’s not. A torch, I learn in that moment, is truly a torch, in the worst sense. It starts up with a whine, filling the air with a hot, metallic scent. I’ve smelled that before, in Colombia. Looking over is a mistake but my eyes do it anyway, nerves rising to see Basman holding Garza’s head to the wall, that thin little instrument centimeters from his panicked face, it’s tip glowing a bright orange before him. He’s not nearly so brave now. Basman takes note, holds it there for some time.

“You like your eyes?”

I think I’ve decided to find God at this very moment, frantically praying this ends now. I don’t care what Garza did. _I_ don’t want to witness this. My stomach seizes violently, bile rising in my throat, just like my heart rate. If there is a God they will not make this occur, they will spare me this evil.

Garza cowers. Basman’s still waiting. I have to imagine he doesn’t _want_ to do this. Even if it’s not true it’s better than thinking he does.

“Or maybe we should take out your tongue since you don’t want to talk. How about…both? Anybody against that?”

I look down at the floor, ringing taking over my ears, vision sparkling white in my peripheral. I want to object, not for Garza’s sake but mine. I’m weak; I can’t handle dealing with this. Why are we doing this again?

When Garza’s first shriek fills the air I shut my eyes tight, pretend I am outside in the heat, dissociate myself completely. I am not here. I am fine. Everything’s fine. At least it’s not me. It could’ve been me.

He spits out numbers nearly ten minutes later after having a true, deserved meltdown. I don’t check to see what was done. Basman drops his tools, pulls Garza up on the wall, demands he say it again. Garza does, not even hesitant. Everything from his body to words shivers, shock setting in.

He never thought he’d be in this deep, thought he was untouchable. He keeps talking, names pouring from bloodied lips. Locations, codes, everything Basman demands he gives, tries to distance himself from what he’s done. He admits to giving orders, admits to using the cartel he runs as a front, a distraction. It’s like we’ve created a fountain of wealth, Garza never running out of things to talk about.

Miri takes it all in. I try to listen but can’t. He’s admitting to heinous things worse than burning eyes out of their socket. I’m in my safe space instead, endlessly counting, sure this will be over soon. It has to end eventually. It has to. At least he’s not screaming any longer. He’s bleeding though, I can see it from the corner of my eye.

Finally he putters out, convulsions getting to him. Basman and Miri ask several more questions, easy ones on where they can find certain suspects. Garza tries answering, trails off halfway through, body giving up on him. Basman’s one step ahead, stabbing him with something in the neck. He’s wide awake seconds later, sweat pouring from him, screaming at the top of cracked lungs for help. I’d like to cut open my veins by now, get this over with.

Miri doesn’t have as much sympathy any longer, not when they have what they need.

“Should’ve thought of that before you fucked us over, Garza,” she icily hollers over him, stepping to his side. “You worked for us once. _Us_. You really thought you’d keep this secret? You thought you could take us down? Garza, you motherfucking pig….we didn’t fund you for that. Didn’t fund you to take us on.”

I think even Basman’s surprised when her baton smashes into Garza’s loud, sobbing face. She manages several more hits, crushing into bone and beyond, rendering him useless. We all stare at this for two seconds too long before Basman grabs her, pulling her away and narrowly missing his own hit. She’s thrown against the other wall, screaming epithets at both him and Garza—she clearly has a problem with him, it finally manifesting when he has nothing more to offer.

But what if none of it’s true? What if he dies and we have nothing? Basman must understand that, fuming as he shouts at her to back off. He’s shaking as he kneels next to her, still bitching. Behind them Garza moans, hyperventilating, too stimulated and in too much pain. His head lolls toward his neck, bits and pieces of himself plopping to the ground. There’s no stopping Miri though. She almost pushes past Basman, scrabbling hard, determined to kill their victim, right here, right now, where it’s not even official.

What’s worse? Mutilating someone or letting them perish? At this point I’m not sure, frozen to my spot, shocked.

Basman asks for Miri’s detainment. Both myself and another recruit step in, holding her back. She’s hardly simmered, not fighting us but still spitting venom at Garza’s delirious, slumping figure. Her chest’s heaving, anger radiating from her. While he ensures Garza’s still breathing Basman gets on his link, asks from a team from Med—comms only—as soon as possible. Everyone stays where they are, the room quiet save for Garza’s harried whimpering and coughing. And, of course, comments from Miri.

She spits at the ground, teeth bared as she glares at her prey. “You fucking deserve this, Garza. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

I don’t feel sick anymore, somehow. Instead, adrenaline’s pushing through my veins, telling me to hold onto Miri as hard as I can or Garza’s dead. She will kill him.

She tries again when Med sweeps in, one of Rey’s supervisors taking a look at him and gagging. I don’t care who’s on the other side of Miri, I hold her down hard, quell her struggling. She’s the one who set _me_ off once, the one who told me I’d have vengeance soon enough. Turns out she wasn’t joking, except it was for herself. Now who looks crazy?

Not me.

Med takes him away with two of our guards, and Miri is escorted out with Singh minutes later, the other comm having shown up as if he were summoned. Basman probably asked for his assistance. In a daze I sit on the floor with the last of the recruits, all of us silent while Basman restlessly paces. Everything about this feels raw. When I do look at my link I see it’s past six—we’ve missed dinner, not like I could eat anyway. I need to shower though, we all do. Miri got his blood on me and Basman…his front is coated with it and more in several places.

Taking a deep breath he stops his pacing, looks at us with hands on his hips. “Regor, Ordova—clean this up. Bashir—reports. Do _not_ say a word about this exchange.”

It’s like he thinks we’re going to run out of here screaming when I don’t even know how to sum up what just happened. Nauseous, I head to reporting once the others have stood and stretched, beginning their work. Basman goes with, several steps behind me. We don’t speak, which is fine. Great, even. When we head inside I pull a fresh report from my usual desk. He plucks it from my fingers before I can start filling in what’s possible.

“This didn’t happen,” he flatly remarks, voice quiet, standing very close to my desk.

I watch the papers fly, falling to the floor, then look up at him. Why am I here if I’m not reporting? I’d like to shower, so badly, right now. Unsure what he wants I wait but he just stands there, thoughtful for several long minutes. A range of hardened emotions pull over his face in that time frame before he finally hones in on me again.

“What were you thinking about?” he wonders, demeanor strained. He’s being careful. “In there?”

I was thinking about literally anything that wasn’t actually occurring, possibly questioning my faith. Why does he want to know? I want to shower, want to pretend all of this never happened. I could’ve handled it if Miri hadn’t gone off the handle, if she hadn’t tried killing Garza.

My shoulders hunch and I bite my lip, keep it from quivering. “I don’t know. Why’d you put me in there?”

His gaze shifts, drops to the floor. “Because you can handle it.”

My face wrenches and I start to rebuke I obviously can’t but…he’s right. I just did. He knew I could, already knew I could put up with a hell of a lot. That makes me feel horrible. My legs bounce, anxious. I don’t want to be here, don’t want to be in a room with him. They nearly killed someone today. They always do but…this was different.

I shudder, blinking back tears. “Can I go? Please?”

“You good?” he questions, not moving. I nod, earning a scoff from him. “Make me believe it.”

How am I supposed to do that? Why do I need to? I dumbly look up at him, panic coming back, everything I’ve smashed down bursting forth.

He softens immensely, exhales. “Want to wash up?”

“Please,” I whisper, stepping around him, moving for the door.He catches me before I get too far, dirty fingers holding my wrist. I want to vomit. He sees it, lets go, steps away.

His gaze hits the floor, can’t look up at me. “Take it easy the rest of the day.”

I exit before he can change his mind.


	28. XXVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the future they don't worry about personal space or boundaries. Edin and Maks share an uncomfortable train ride together.

Saturday, March 15th, 2059.

Heat blooms across the nape of my neck, pushing me out of my dreams. I wake up sweating, shoulders and neck aching like mad. I’m afraid to complain, sure Maks won’t care. He’s not beside me in the compartment’s bed so I slowly sit up, clutching at one shoulder and looking about. He’s in the corner nestled in a chair, snoring softly, dead to the world.

Good. I’m fairly certain he’s been up a good two days at least. He needs to sleep at some point, and he slyly figured he’d be fine getting some rest while I was down for the night.

Checking my phone I see we’ve been on the train a little over eighteen hours now, with dozens more to go and a transfer somewhere in Kazakhstan. We boarded in Shenzhen with relatively little difficulty, passing security’s questioning and flashing travel visas like pros. Our story changed at the station—we’re still newlyweds but now we’re taking a scenic trip through the inner flats of the continent. Believable if inland wasn’t so desolate but the station’s security didn’t care, they waved us through their detectors without more than a few words.

Beneath me the bed shifts with the room, train moving along at breakneck speed. Maks left the compartment’s window open instead of shaded, the night pitch black outside. I panic momentarily. Travel makes me nervous. After settling in my apartment I vowed to never leave the city, vowed to stick to one spot and never endanger myself again.

Yet here we are.

Slowly I try sliding off the bed, it’s small frame uncomfortable anyway. I don’t get very far, an ankle cuffed to the edge. Of course he would. I glare over at Maks, irritation coming and going. He still dozes, giving me a moment to myself. He’s pervasive as a disease, always at my side or holding my hand, keeping track of me at all times. He likely never will put much trust in me. He shouldn’t, has no reason to.

Staring out the window I make out vague shapes, silhouettes of broken environments. This land saw a good deal of fighting, bore the brunt of way too many campaigns to count, even more so than the Americas. Now no one inhabits the land they fought so hard over. I’m glad I can’t see the full extent of the carnage.

Biting my lip I set my hand over the back of my neck, surprised it’s hot to the touch. My fingers’ pressure alone hurts, making me dizzy. I shift to the bed’s edge. I felt a bit of a sting back at the station, assume one of the insects swarming around the train’s hot engines got a hold of me. I want to look at it, make sure I’m not having some kind of reaction.

“Maks,” I say, feeling like a child. This isn’t fair. I’m an adult, I shouldn’t have to ask him to let me go. He wakes easily as expected, leaning forward and taking a deep breath. One hand rubs at his face, the other reaching to check his own phone. He pretends to be alert, stifling a yawn.

“Ye?”

“I need to use the washroom,” I state, pulling my ankle as far as it’ll go. He nods, pulls a key from his jacket pocket and leans across the small compartment to grasp my foot. The cuff’s worked off easily.

“Get any sleep?” he asks, slumping back in his chair. He almost sounds concerned but I shrug it off, move to get up and stretch. It makes my heart jump, struggling with something I can’t put my finger on.

I pad to the door, slip on rubber sandals, leaning against the frame for support. Wiping sweat from my brow I click on the handle, let the door slide open. I don’t look back, shuffle into the hall and down it’s cramped corridor. Our car has three more compartments, a luxury compared to what some of the other cars looked like when we passed through. I push past these, shoulders nudging along the walls beneath soft lighting until I find the washroom.

Given the hour it’s empty. I lock myself inside and turn to face the sink and mirror. My skin’s pale, though that’s from living in the city, but more than I recall. My sleep shift’s soaked. The small room tips slightly and I lean against the sink, raise one elbow to draw back my hair. I tilt my stiff neck, twist to try and see better, jaw popping open in surprise. It’s an angry red back there, skin raised like a large welt, tighter than a sunburn. I’ve never had this kind of reaction before.

My other hand reaches back to press on it, sending a jolt through my spine and myself clattering to the ground in a heap. That hurt, terribly, as if I’m touching a raw nerve. What is this? Taking a deep breath it quickly comes out in a hiss, painful simply to breathe. More sweat pours down my forehead, down my neck. Dizziness hits me in a single wave, forces me to try and be still, try and take shallow breaths.

There’s an unsubtle knock on the door, and for once I’m so relieved I’m not alone. I reach for the door, failing to catch the handle without my spine lighting up with electricity. Whimpering, I try again, pushing through the worst of it, vision going fuzzy a moment.

“Babe?” Maks’ rough voice cuts through the metal. Aware he can’t see I nod anyway, shivering involuntarily. This hurts. This really, really hurts and it doesn’t matter what I do, nothing’s making it better. It reminds me of a different heat and I try blocking it out, try not to think about it. The pressure keeps increasing tho, heat steadily reaching around to my front. I try and take another deep breath but can’t, choking out several coughs instead.

His voice grows gentler. “Babe, you alright?” He almost sounds like a decent boyfriend—no, husband. I’m sure he’s seething.

“I can’t breathe,” I squeak, trying again, that molten sensation crawling across me again. “I can’t—”

Open the door or try and reposition myself? Neither option sounds feasible but my fingers are closer to the handle. I wiggle them harder. It feels like they’re going numb, and quickly. How is any of this possible? I have to be having a panic attack, some kind of internal meltdown over leaving. Allergic reactions can’t happen this fast.

“Babe, open the door,” encourages Maks, voice way too sweet to be real. It encourages my nerves and my scrabbling fingers manage, shifting the lock. That thing is swiftly slid open, his body pushing through the frame before he looks down at me, uttering a noise of contempt. He drops to his haunches while I huddle myself together.

“The fuck are you doing?” he hisses, displeasure obvious.

I’m panicking, heat unbearable, ears beginning to buzz in an early warning. Ignoring his anger I clap a hand over my shoulder, head dropping and shoving my hair to the side. My neck’s so stiff it feels like I’m trying to do the impossible but it helps I falter down onto one elbow, cringing over touching the floor. Maks begins to scoff but pauses, cool fingers ghosting over the welt. I want it to help but it doesn’t, the sensation pulsing beneath my skin and making me choke.

“Fuck,” he breathes, abruptly rising to his feet. He must debate about leaving me there because he drops down again and hooks his elbows beneath my underarms, pulling me up with him. I can’t stand at this point, the whole car spinning about me. I lean into him instead, let him figure out what’s best. Avoiding my torso he hoists my hips to one of his, carefully shuffling back to our compartment with the speed of a turtle. I keep trying to breathe but it comes out as whimpering so I hold in whatever air I can get.

“Don’t,” he warns at our door, using a foot to slide open the door and pull me inside. “Breathe, baby.”

I don’t know if he’s acting or not anymore. I refuse until he coaxes me to bed, then start choking again. This is humiliating being so helpless in front of him. He wants me to lie down rather than sit but I can’t, my muscles seizing, the only slightly more comfortable position being to hunch over myself.

He gives up on that, hovering instead, gathering my hair in one fist and holding it aside to study throbbing skin. “Baby…do you know what this is?”

I thought it was a bug bite but the way he says it makes me think it’s something else, whatever that means. My emotions dive, panic coming on faster, heart racing. I hunch further, forehead touching the sheets. “What—”

I can’t finish. I want to die. Everything’s freezing up, senses flooding with some kind of foreign entity. I never wanted to feel this kind of heat again, yet it’s somehow inside me, refusing to leave.

His presence settles behind me on the bed, a palm massaging my lower back. It sets off miniature explosions in my nerves and I beg him to stop. He doesn’t. I’m sure he’s bitching about this but I can’t hear anything, heart pounding too hard in ringing ears. I wish I could squirm, wish I could move but I’m stuck, can’t even shove him off.

His massage isn’t nearly as painful as my neck though, not when it feels like it’s being stabbed. I groan uncontrollably into the sheets, certain this is it. With the pain comes a wet sensation, like something’s leaking which nauseates me. I can feel liquid dribbling down my neck, toward my chin and the sheets. My heart’s beating through my skin, terrified the only thing keeping me together has burst open. My hands curl into fists, clutch at the sheets with white knuckles.

“Shh.” I can vaguely hear him hushing me, sound soothing compared to the pain coursing through me. His hand gently travels up my back until I realize his dominant hand’s already between my shoulders. His fingers feel like they’re kneading my muscles, like he’s…digging into me. I grow dizzy at the thought, try not to think about it. He encourages this, hushing me more. “Relax, baby. It’ll be over in a second.”

He sounds so calm, as if this is normal. There’s a moment of blistering heat and pain when he pinches something near the top of my spinal column. I can’t keep quiet, crying as he tugs on it.

“You’re gonna wake our neighbors,” he teases over my noises, tsk-ing when he pulls my shirt up and over my ribs, covering my neck. “Guess that’s alright. Wouldn’t want them to think your first time was disappointing.”

“Maks,” I groan, control returning to my body, the fiery pain diminishing. It still aches, though nothing like before. Unravelling, I tip over both knees and onto my belly. “Oh my God, what’d you—what’d you do?”

He’s quiet a moment before his presence leaves the bed. I manage to tilt my head, watching him dig through one of our bags to find a towel. “Do you know what that was?”

He won’t answer my question but expects me to answer his. How should I know? Scared of what I’ll find I reach a quivering hand to the back of my neck anyway, disgusted when it’s pulled back with blood. I look to him again, unsurprised he’s using the towel to clean off a pocket knife. His body language is still so calm, collected.

“Some of our captures had that same problem,” he quietly informs me, returning to wipe off excess blood. “Muscle seizure, fever, swelling around the spinal column. Never made it to camp for questioning.”

What does that have to do with me? I whimper when he swipes the cloth over me several times, then beckons I remove my shirt entirely. I only comply because it’s now soaked with both sweat and blood. Maks eyes me, takes his time finishing. His hands smoothly run over my skin, ensures the wound is clean.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were tracked?” he wonders, tone innocent. I’m confused until he nods at the floor. When I dizzily lean over the edge I spy a dark chip sizzling on the faux wood boards. A hand claps over my neck again and I hiss, half in pain and half in shock.

I don’t recall having a chip inserted—ever. I know…know there were days I wasn’t quite coherent after being captured but having something like that forced into me…wouldn’t I remember?

“You’d have died in a few more hours, baby,” he continues, boot hovering over the chip, then crushing it. My heart freezes with newfound fear. He thinks I knew about it. “These self destruct when they’re out of designated range, cook their vessels. How long did you think you could put up with it? Until we arrived?”

He thinks I was waiting, that I intended for this to happen. I study the floor, eyes wide. Everything I tell him he already thinks is a lie. I’ve done nothing to prove he should trust me because he shouldn’t, but this…this isn’t something I could’ve pulled off even if I’d known.

“I didn’t…think they’d chipped me,” I softly reply, voice wavering. I feel betrayed. I gave the state so much information, gave them everything they wanted. They made me carry a goddamn phone and answer their call every day when I never needed to.

“You didn’t know?” he asks, doubt obvious. Biting down emotions I gently shake my head. My fingers gingerly prod the shallow cut he made, surprised to find the swelling’s gone down significantly.

“I…” I have been lied to by the state that promised to protect me in exchange for information. This should have been obvious but I had no reason to think they would’ve kept me so well contained. I’d told them where I was going to be, told them I had no plans on traveling. It figures this would occur. Suspicion comes naturally for both sides.

Seeing I won’t finish Maks exhales, returns to sit on the bed with me. An arm snakes around my waist, pulls me toward him. It’s comforting until he reaches to smooth my hair, ducking and placing a quick kiss on my temple. Then it’s suffocating, his hold on me tight. His kisses trail down my neck, free hand cupping a breast, thumbing over the nipple. He draws me with him when he lies back on the sheets, keeping me against his chest.

He pauses in his groping, somehow losing interest and reaching down to stroke a hip instead. I can feel his heart beneath me, beating a touch faster than it should. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or worried he just found a tracker quite a ways into our journey.

The thought of being found out, of being arrested out here and sent back to Hong Kong for processing, makes me shiver, fear taking hold. I don’t think I can do this. I know what they can do, know it’s going to be unpleasant and honestly I don’t think I can keep quiet again.

“They can’t know,” I whisper, more to myself than him. Paranoia’s pushing through my limbs, telling me this isn’t going to work. “They can’t. If they do—”

“Shh,” he insists, lips grazing over my jaw. “I’ve got this. We’ll be fine.”

How does he know? I just fucked over the entire trip he meticulously planned. I start to voice this but he presses his mouth to mine, coerces me to shut up. His fingers trace from my hip to my ass, squeezing soft flesh.

“Stay in my sight, baby,” he whispers, low voice cracking, a leg unceremoniously draping over mine. “Can’t help if you’re dead.”


	29. XXIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makeup sex, makeup sex, makeup sex. Reminder this is all totally consensual, I promise.

Sunday, May 14th, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

The girl who snapped at Garza is never seen again, and Miri is supposedly on other duties for the time being. When I discuss their sudden absences with Rey she assumes it’s because they both went off the deep end. I concur, but I think Miri’s out for a variety of reasons. I don’t tell her exactly what went down, but I’m sure she understands from my sudden amplified request in sedatives it wasn’t pleasant.

It really wasn’t.

Pleasant or not, Garza’s never mentioned or seen downstairs after that, leading me to believe he may not have survived Miri’s onslaught. His time with us wasn’t for nothing, thankfully.

Literally less than a day after the unofficial interrogation things begin changing. Not in the facility, but abroad. Rey keeps me abreast of what’s going on, willing to track down tablets and seek out news more than me. Apparently we’re pushing back, have found a rat’s nest of the enemy in Caracas and somehow subdued parts of Venezuela, Brazil obviously being the next intended target. That will be in months however, not when we’re busy also furthering our influence in Australia, regaining ground on the African continent, and tying up a long campaign in the UK. The UK’s more for show than anything.

A lot of these slogs suddenly hit a fever pitch, with movement from our troops crossing the globe in all shapes and forms. Enemy leaders are ferreted out of hiding and slain on live feed, which in turn bolsters our morale. It’s mildly interesting to hear about, makes me feel like I didn’t join for nothing.

Camp Bhutan doesn’t change much but I see it in the way the comms act, understand we had something to do with these sudden revelations. More commendations on our effort comes our way, regardless of which unit we’re assigned to. All of this leads me to believe Garza was telling the truth in his interrogation. A good thing if nobody’s seen or summoned him since.

A really good thing if all the sudden we have access to alcohol one day. Nothing hard, but wine and beer to those who haven’t had it in possibly over a year is splendid. I make Rey swear she’ll hold some for me since I work evening shift, patrolling prison halls and pulling miscellaneous reports for comms in several corners of the globe. When I get off around two in the morning I’m ridiculously pleased to find a couple cans of cheap wine nestled beneath my pillow, exactly where she said she’d put whatever she could grab.

They both accompany me to the rec area once I’m showered and changed, fully intending to down these before breakfast. It’s only a little before three anyway—I have time. The rec area’s quiet at this hour, something I discovered during sleepless nights not spent in Maks’ room and especially now that I can confirm my bed is shit and I can’t sleep in the dorm anyway when my other two roommates are in there. I find a couch by the slatted windows and some magazines Rey and I haven’t completely torn through, crack open the first can and recline, absorbing mindless makeup and home organization tips.

It’s not the same without her. I’m finished reading before I’m done with my first can, but I am very tipsy by that point. It’s a good moment, could be better with Rey. Or her brother. No, no. I don’t want to see him ever again outside of work. Every time I think about him I remember what his hands looked like, blood and other human matter covering strong tendons, calloused palms.

But when I’m drunk those images aren’t nearly as important as…other ones. I check my link. It’s like, a half hour until four. He could be up. I’m an idiot trying to rationalize knocking on his door at this hour but I have nothing better to do, hardly anyone’s up and the people who are, are busy working. In an effort to prevent further embarrassment I tell myself to drink the other can before I do anything.

I slowly sip on that and watch the semi-dark sky beyond the facility, go over my choices. In reality there are no choices. I will stay here, ruminate until the wine’s worn off, and then I’ll eat breakfast with Rey. It’s always like that, unless I have a day shift in which we see each other for all rec time. I still haven’t figured out what eats at her. She doesn’t want to talk about it, won’t bring it up without prodding, and I’m too weak to prod. I could ask her brother. I bet he’d love that I’ve taken such an interest in her. It’d be such a breach of trust though. Whatever digs between them isn’t my business, not unless Rey brings it up. My body’s trying to persuade me to seek him out but I know it’s a bad idea. It’s a really, really bad idea.

None of that stops me from swaggering to staff housing the second my link says it’s four. I know he’s up, am determined to…at least see him, I guess. My brain thinks it’s going to go smoothly while the rest of me panics, kicking myself for moving from the couch. This will not end well.

I do not care, I’m craving him.

I carefully tiptoe to his door, check my surroundings in case anyone’s up (they’re not), and knock twice. It’s louder than intended and I giggle, easily entertained. No, no. I need to be more composed. He’s going to think I’m an idiot. He probably already does.

The door doesn’t open. I’d try the handle but he might kill an intruder—man, I really shouldn’t be here, why am I still standing here? Why are my fingers closing on the handle anyway? This is a bad idea.

The door snaps open several centimeters, Maks’ face peering through the crack. His hair’s wet, body in the same state from what I can see and yes, I do pause in my mischief to stare, grin broadening. His eyes roll, door opening wider, beckoning me in.

I slip inside, still grinning. This is already too good seeing his body sopping wet. Shutting the door he turns, leans on the frame and takes me in. His expression is more annoyed than anything but I don’t let that deter my intentions.

“I wanted to see you,” I murmur, absently toying with my hair, a tip I learned from the last magazine I picked up. My face feels hot, but I can’t tell if I’m a lush or just embarrassed. Probably both.

“You see me near every damn day,” he remarks, voice low. He clearly just woke up. My gaze drops to his cock and I bite my lip.

“Ye, but not like this.”

He huffs exaggeratedly, nods at his bed. “Sit. Let me finish up.” When I giggle he slowly moves from the door, brow raised. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope,” I lie, plunking down anyway. “Stone cold sober.”

He doesn’t answer, hustles back to the washroom. The shower resumes, steam pushing from the room. Immediately I work off my clothes, throwing them across the room because I truly don’t care in this moment. I’m feeling ambitious, bold, liquid courage helping me through it.

Once he’s out he returns with a towel tucked around his waist. I’m naked amongst his sheets, strategically placed to emphasize my best bits. He can’t really keep a straight face as he stares, slapping a hand over his mouth, pretending to be in thought. Finally he steps closer, sighs heavily before perching on the edge of the bed.

“You haven’t…what is this?” he asks, casually setting a palm over my hip, thumb stroking skin. I keep smiling, stretching generously.

“Am I early enough?” I ask. I have to be, he’s not that much of a go-getter. He appreciates sleep, too. “I wanted to…see you.”

“Already said that,” he observes, unable to hide his amusement any longer. “What do you want, baby?”

Okay I guess I am embarrassed because my eyes shut. I don’t even feel like I’m in Bhutan anymore. It’s like…like I’m back home, when I used to be able to get wasted without a care in the world. Granted this isn’t near wasted but it’s close enough.

I take a deep breath. “You.”

He’s quiet for far too long. I poke open one eye, surprised to find him still sitting there, contemplating my words. My smile dissipates, self-consciousness roaring to life. Does he not want to do this anymore? I waited too long, didn’t I?

His palm slides up my belly, fingers tracing my ribs. If he notices my scratches he doesn’t say anything. I’m okay with that. “Thought you weren’t interested.”

“Oh I’m not,” I seriously answer, nodding in agreement, “but I was thinking about you and…couldn’t help it.”

“You’re drunk,” he carefully asserts, tone a bit acidic, like he knows what I’m doing. His hand extends to my breast anyway, squeezes experimentally. A soft moan escapes my lips. I don’t see how my status has anything to do with wanting him.

“So?”

My reasoning must be sound. He smirks, fingers rolling my nipple. Leaning over he sucks it into his mouth, encouraging a blissful hiss from me. I pull up on my elbows, head spinning, cooing when he nibbles. His skin is damp, warm. I caress it, my fingers traveling up his back to his hair, pleased when he shifts to better loom over me. The towel falls off and I…I am a happy woman.

Soon both his knees move over mine. My free hand snakes to his cock, holding and stroking it’s already hardening length. His hands draw to either side of me, mouth abandoning my breast to let his tongue draw up my neck and to my lips. When he offers his mouth I feverishly take it, jaw tilting to let him explore. He nips the edge of my lower lip, sucks it between his teeth, giving me a dark look, groaning into me as my hand beckons him to attention.

Without warning he breaks away, slaps my cheek with enough force to earn a soft cry from me. My hand tightens on his cock, eyes watering slightly as I blink innocently at him. He slaps me again, harder, and I cry out harder. This time his hand returns to the reddened skin, keeps it there. Holding himself over me his eyes search my face, brow intent. I go still beneath him, brain slow to catch up.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispers, lips hovering over mine. “You think you can come in here like nothing happened, like you didn’t straight up abandon me. When you want my cock it’s alright, is that it?”

I can’t tell if my cheek hurts or I’m blushing. I pant, shaking my head. His thumb pops between my lips. I suck on it without being asked, let him continue. He enjoys seeing my compliant face, leans back on his haunches to admire the rest of me. A rumble rises from his chest, liking what he sees.

“You’ve neglected me, baby,” he calmly informs me, hips subtly moving, cock lewdly slipping through my grip. “You think if you came in here all cute with your tits out I’d forgive you.”

My tongue swirls around his thumb, relaxing beneath him. This is the game, the one I like. I want him to keep going, want him to slap me again, do whatever he wants with me. I think he’s going to but he falters, dips to push his tongue into my mouth with his thumb, breath hot over mine. His hand moves, pulls me closer so he can probe deeper, lust taking over.

Forgiveness is forgotten. He drags me from the sheets, pulls me flush with him and I quickly rearrange myself in his lap, his cock throbbing between us. His hands roam over me, coming to rest on my ass and squeezing both cheeks, keeping me right where I am. Our mouths never leave each other, determined to suck the life out of one another apparently. I can hear myself whimpering, wordlessly begging him to touch me.

He obliges after spanking my ass, digits sliding down to plunge through my wet labia. It gets a rise out of him, convinces him to pull away, teeth dragging over my neck and down to my shoulder.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he huskily accuses, lower lip against my collarbone, free hand still kneading my ass. “Such a fucking slut.”

My hips squirm, encouraging the notion. I try ducking to kiss him again. “You should punish me. I can’t help it. I just—I start thinking of you and get so wet.”

His body tenses, forehead pressing into me, fingers stroking my inner walls. He knows I’m not lying.

“You touch yourself when you think of me?”

I wish, but I’m never alone in private long enough. I frantically nod anyway, desperate to keep this up. He growls, thumb circling my clit.

“Mm, baby…I should be the only one touching you, should be making you come every fucking day.”

I agree with this wholeheartedly, hips bucking against his hand. He laughs beneath his breath, slows his pace but increases pressure, stretching me.

“Ye, that’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Come on, don’t be shy.”

He’s teasing me, my core tightening, a beautiful buzz building between my thighs. He can feel it, fingers leaving me to spank me once more. This time it really smarts, catches my attention. I wiggle against him, do my best pout, arms wrapping around his neck to try and slide over his cock. He knows what I’m doing, reaches back with one hand to grab a wrist, squeezing hard.

A squeak escapes my throat, freezing. He takes advantage of the moment, head tilting, tongue lathing from my chin, along my jaw to my ear. I shudder, completely at his mercy, heart beginning to race. The wine’s wearing off, reminding me what he can do with his hands. I try not to think of work, try to focus on the moment.

His hand pulls mine down to his waist, rubs my weak fist against his member, grip never lifting. If anything it only tightens, my muscles throbbing. His other hand digs deeper into my buttocks, more than uncomfortably. I try moving but it only encourages him. My other arm keeps tight around his neck, attempts to pull me up and away from him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he wonders, painfully sucking on my skin. I cringe, whimper again. It sets him off. I can feel his smile on my raising flesh. “You’re the one who wanted this.”

I do but my bravery’s gone. This feels too much like what I’ve been avoiding him over. I keep trying to fight it, pushing down the panic in my blood but it keeps coming back. It makes me shake, unsure how this is going to turn out.

His grip is released when he abruptly pushes me back to the sheets, knocking me out of my thoughts. He rises from the bed. “Hands over your head, baby. Close your eyes.”

I do so with only a bit of hesitation. His order both excites and scares me. But I…trust him, somehow. He’s never truly hurt me.

“You’re so fucking lucky,” he softly comments, lips ghosting over my body. I shiver with anticipation, wondering what he’s got in mind. Rough bindings wrap around my wrists, are secured above me. That part doesn’t scare me too much; he likes doing that anyway. “I’ve seen you looking at me. I know you missed me.”

I did, kind of. It’s weird; he scares me yet I still want him touching me. Still want his attention. My back stretches, torso lengthening.

“Did you?” he prods when I don’t answer, words close to my neck. The idea he wants to know makes my stomach flutter in a good way. My eyes open involuntarily, pleased to see he hovers over me, gaze curiously flitting to my passive face.

My teeth flash faintly and I ask the same. “Did you?”

He pauses, eyes crinkling in a rare, genuine smile. Rather than admit anything he lowers, laps at my naval, tongue gingerly crossing my skin to my breasts, latching onto a nipple. My body heats up, enjoying his attention way too much.

“Maks,” I breathe, panting. My wrists yank their binding and I look up, ropes secured to his headboard. Perfect. “Fuck me, please.”

He tuts, shaking his head, pressed forward to cover my mouth with his. I’m whimpering again, needing him to do something, anything, to me.

“You came to me,” he whispers between kisses, tongue running over my lower lip. “You interrupted my morning, ignored me for weeks. And then you only come to me when you’re drunk? No baby, I won’t fuck you. I really, really want to, but I don’t think you deserve it.”

My core tightens, sensing something dark between his words. I want it, need it. My lids flutter in cautious desire. “Please.”

His smirk broadens like I’m being funny. Leaning back his spine stretches like his wolfish expression. “Please what?”

“Fuck me,” I answer in a whisper, sure if I ask for it enough he’ll do it.

“No, baby,” he hisses back, hopping onto the bed between my legs, shoving them open further. “You deserve something else.”

What does that mean? My hands struggle in their bindings, a sinking feeling pulling at my stomach. What did I just agree to?

“Relax,” he soothes, palms rubbing over my thighs before a hand wraps around his cock, stroking it himself as he looks me over. I watch him, concern coming and going. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen. I just want to look at you, touch you. Arch your back, baby—there you go.”

His voice is low, focused, and he does just as he tells me. Generously stroking his cock his free hand wanders, jacking off as he touches what he knows is sensitive, fingers brushing just over my labia. I keen when he plucks at my nipples, bringing them to attention and pinching hard, letting them swell. His fingers finally do find my slit, rubbing over my clit and making me writhe. He plunges several fingers deeper, pulling them out and wiping slick up my belly, offering them at last for me to suck on.

The more I fidget and try to respond the more turned on he becomes, stroking faster. When his balls tighten he slaps his cock against my wet folds. I want him so bad.

“Maks,” I beg, hips straining. “Maks, fuck me. _Please_.”

He smiles faintly, distracted, jaw loose, fist still pumping. “That’s right, baby. Beg for my cock.”

I do, especially when he lets his length slide between my lips, thrusting just above my slit to tease me. It drives me nuts, my thoughts consumed with lust. I’m panting his name, trying to goad him into fucking me but he never does. Instead he bites his lip, groans as he comes, spilling over me in several thick lines.

The way he looks down at me is like someone studying a piece of art, thoughtful and subdued. When his breathing slows he lowers on his rump then slides off the bed. A soft grin is permanently fixed to his face while he cleans himself off with a stray shirt. I watch him move to his dresser, picking out new clothes. My hands are still tied yet he casually pulls on a fresh uniform. He didn’t make me come and he has me tied up. This isn’t fair.

“Maks,” I say, scooting back on the bed so I’m more comfortable. He pretends not to hear, pulls on socks. I try again. “Maks, you’re not…”

“Hm?” He turns, absently eyes me, satiated grin never fading. “Oh. No, baby. This is your punishment. I’ll come back for you later.”

That isn’t funny. My gaze narrows, forming an angry line. He thinks it’s cute, takes the few steps to the bed to smooth hair off my forehead. “You’re the one who came back, baby. Get some sleep, ye?”

I glower at him until he’s done, returning to me again to press a kiss on my nose, then back to my breasts. He teases me, teeth pulling them to their peaks. In between coos I wonder what’ll happen should there be an emergency. When I voice this his grin grows affectionate.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back soon.”

I doubt that. When he shuts the door I thrash hard, try to get out but can’t. This isn’t fair and he knows it, and I don’t think I can stay here for long. I drank way too much wine in too short amount of time—

Hardly before I can finish my first bitter thoughts the door pushes open once more. He slides back with the most mischievous look pulled across his face, kicking the door shut behind him. Running his tongue over his teeth he pounces back on the bed, landing right over me to attack me yet again. I can’t help shrieking, caught up in his enthusiasm. He doesn’t care about his uniform, roughly ripping off my ropes and pulling me closer so he can keep going.

I help as much as I can, fervently scooting closer, pushing and offering him everything I possibly can.

I did. I missed him.


	30. XXX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of sex in the shower and teasing, and then Rey learns the truth. Personally I feel bad for Maks' neighbors, if he even has any at this point.

Tuesday, June 6th, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

Somebody’s link buzzes, Maks’ room lighting up in soft blue light. He stirs behind me, warm chest rising against my back. In a sleepy haze I roll to my stomach, make it easier for him to hop over me in his search to shut the thing off. He moves slowly about his room, yawning, taking his time looking for things in low light.

I ought to get up, too, need to be out of staff housing and back in my room well before corridors become more crowded. His bed’s so comfortable though, and now I have it all to myself. One hand reaches for the sheets, trying to pull them up over my shoulders.

Beyond the bed his soft snort of amusement fills his room. He comes over, fingers dipping under the covers and rubbing over my back. It feels wonderful, like I’m not stuck in some dank facility. If I pretend hard enough it’s almost a massage. He doesn’t give those though.

“Up,” he prompts, tone hushed, gentle. It’s brazenly different from anything he uses outside his door, something that’s developed over several weeks, months if I’m being honest. It’s specifically for me. I really enjoy it.

I moan, roll over and do like he suggests, slowly pulling to the edge of the bed. My thighs spread around him. Hands finding my ass he pulls me flush with him, lips touching first my shoulder, my jaw, and finally the corner of my mouth. He’s incredibly doting and affectionate when he wants to be which, recently, is a lot. I would never refuse him, not when he’s like this.

His kiss deepens, hold becoming stronger. My arms wrap around his neck and he plucks me from bed, hauling me with to the shower. We spend too much time in there but neither of us seem to be in a rush. He holds me against the wall, soapy hands sliding over my skin and groping the softer spots, while his cock pushes into me from behind. More often than not his aggression comes through verbally, physically handling me more possessively than dominant. It’s still hot and my back arches, hips extend to spread myself as wide as possible for him.

He coaxes me to come right before he does, toying with my clit until I’m panting, begging for release and getting exactly as I ask. Maks leans into me until he can recover, pressing generous hickies between my shoulder blades in the process.

We towel off and I watch him dress, a pleased grin plastered over my lips. He’s truly enjoyable to observe, in here anyway. At work it’s an entirely different story, one I work very hard to pretend doesn’t exist.

He glances over his shoulder, hides his own smile but I can hear it in his voice. “I like when you have day shifts.”

I do, too. I traded with one of the other recruits downstairs, trying to match my shift closer to his. It’s not exactly the same but it’s close enough. Rey enjoys it too since we suddenly have more time to gossip together. He enjoys it because it gives him all night with me rather than an hour or two, which of course, I also find greatly pleasurable.

Beyond that however we don’t particularly discuss work or life, or…anything else, really. His comment falls flat aside from my giddy nod. He studies me a bit longer, bashfully shakes his head and goes back to changing. I grudgingly join him, knock hips with him several times to tease.

It works almost too easily and he whips to me, gathers me in his arms only to pin me against the door. I try not to giggle too much, elbows at my sides while allowing him to button my top. It takes him an unbearably long time, mostly because he feels a need to undo everything first and heft both breasts through my bra, _then_ it’s okay to secure everything. His desire to touch flesh never fails, which always succeeds in making my body more responsive, compliant.

“You’re so easy,” I mock, flashing a mischievous grin when he presses against me, dick pulsing suggestively.

“Mm, you’re not stopping me,” he slyly remarks, lingering on the last button. “I think you like it.”

He’s absolutely right. I catch his mouth in another kiss, eager to make it hard for him to leave. It must be working if his free fist softly pounds on the door beside me in defeat, other hand deftly groping my ass. I groan in response, gently rubbing my hips.

“Baby,” he mutters, breaking off and breathing against my ear. His weight holds me as I am. “This isn’t fair. I need to go.”

“Should’ve woken earlier,” I murmur, nipping at his skin. It sets him off, his neck rolling pleasurably.

“Fuck. I need to take you somewhere I can do this all day, just get it out of my system.”

I laugh for him, tugging at his clothes. Whatever he has planned can wait. “You think it’d help?”

Lids lowered he grins, shakes his head. “No, but I still wanna do it.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking but it’s nice to hear regardless. I move to kiss him again, certain I can lead him back to bed at least one more—

Harsh banging on the door hits my back and I jump forward, knocking right into him. He hurriedly shoves me to the left for the washroom, motioning me to hide in there. I stumble in like a drunk and take shelter in the tiny shower stall, glad I at least put my boots on.

Out in his room I hear him gingerly open the door, murmur something.

It’s not answered nearly as quietly. “I swear to God, Maks. I _knew_ it!”

My stomach flips violently. That’s Rey. How’d she—I frantically check my link, surprised by how late it is. Fuck, I should’ve been in my room by now.

Without warning I know Maks has pulled her inside, her yelp an indication.

“What’s wrong?” he abruptly demands, the door already sealed. “What do you want?”

“Seriously?” she—loudly—snaps, something tumbling to the ground with a clink. “I’m not an idiot, Maks. What the fuck—who’re you fucking now, huh?”

Now?

“Don’t worry about it,” he flatly growls, and it’s almost refreshing to know he gives the same stupid answers to her. “What do you want?”

This can’t be happening. I sink to the tiles and cover my head. She’ll kill me, or him. Or both. Probably both.

“You motherfucking dick,” she spits, still incredibly loud, something else falling to the floor. “Can you _not_ hold it together for what, a couple months? You get pissed _with me_ for pulling this shit but I shouldn’t worry about it? What the fuck?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” he dully reasons, as if reasoning will work. Has he never seen his sister have a meltdown? Rey does exactly what I expect she would, shrieking obscenities at him. He, to his credit, appears to be taking it.

She’s too loud. That’s her specialty, honestly, but if she keeps this up the whole hall’s going to know. I don’t know what kind of consequences Maks could have but I know what mine are. I don’t want to be outed, don’t want to be labeled a slut. I already had that battle within my head months ago, it doesn’t need to happen again.

“Rey, it’s okay,” I admit, shoving out of the washroom, head still ducked. I can’t look at her right now, focusing solely on the floor. “It’s just…me.”

Silence fills the air. I venture a quick peek, unsurprised to see her seething at me, fists clenched. She kicks at his bed, brow furrowing.

“I told you he was fucking crazy,” she hisses, voice suddenly quiet as death. She’s still outraged but if it’s me who might get in trouble…it’s different. “I _told_ you Edin, he’s fucking nuts. You’ve _seen_ what he can do, why—is he—he’s who’s been fucking you up, isn’t he?”

I can’t exactly deny that but it’s not what she thinks. Shame pours over me, tells me she’s right. She always is but I look down at the floor, cross my arms. “It’s not what you think.”

“Don’t say that,” she snaps back, glare flitting from me to Maks and back. He carefully guards the door, likely has no plans to let either of us out at this point. Acknowledging him would be reckless. “You’re fucking him. What’d he say to get to you, huh? How long as this been going on?”

I can’t lie to her, not if I want her to keep quiet. This is like confessing teenage sins to my mother years ago, equally painful and humiliating. “Since…before I came here.”

The idea I could keep this from her for so long makes her laugh, angrily wiping away tears moments later. “You cunt. I _told_ you. I told you he’d hurt you and he did.”

“No,” I quickly clarify, voice soft. “No, it’s not like that—I’m fine.”

“I’ve been worried as hell about her,” she shakily informs Maks, tears falling faster. “I thought she’s fucking herself up, thought she’s got some kind of PTSD shit but no, it’s just—you’re fucking her. Should’ve known.”

Ever vigilant Maks leans on the door, shrugs apathetically. This is apparently not one of the things he’ll bow to her on. “She liked it.”

“She’s my friend,” Rey hollers, lunging at him. “I told you not to fuck her!”

Ah, so we were both told to keep it in our pants at some point. Guilt clutches at my heart and I jump to grab her before she tries harming him (I seriously doubt she could but I’m more worried about her than him). “Rey. Rey! Hold on, hold on—let’s talk about this.”

That’s clearly not what she wants to hear. She wrestles out of my grip and shoves me sideways, lays into him like I’m not even there. I don’t really feel like I am, not anymore. Again, Maks is fairly resilient with an expressionless face, looking above her head and letting her rant.

“You could’ve picked anyone else, Maks, _anyone._ Why her, hmm? You said you’d help me, not fucking—what the fuck, _why_? Mum’s gonna kill you. She’s going to _kill_ you, you know that? I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

“She won’t,” he softly disagrees, finally looking down his nose at her. I think Rey punches harder than I can, slamming him into the door. He, again, takes it. I stand by, anxiety going through the roof, certain this is going to end poorly no matter who does what. I just don’t want to be found out. I didn’t…never meant for this to be a long term thing, didn’t think I’d ever see Maks again, assumed it would be forgotten about.

But it hasn’t and now she’s hissing about similar incidents, things I don’t want to listen to. How he’s genuinely crazy, gets off on making others hurt, enjoys seeing people in pain. How he apparently tricks bitches into sharing a bed with him then sends them off with bruises. I don’t care, I really don’t—they weren’t me and I fully understand why this is a bad idea. But I see why she’s so concerned, so upset. She thinks he’s knocking me around. Is he? Not really, and I like…like what he does. That’s the fucked up part: I want what he’s doling out, crave it so bad my mind’s already spinning lies to get her to shut up so I can keep doing it. This is fucked up.

“Rey,” I interject when she takes a breath, pushing myself to keep going before she can continue. “It’s not his fault. I promise. I came to him. He did nothing.”

He did, but that’s open to interpretation. I followed him, I knocked on his door, I let him keep going. The quick glare she gives me determines she doesn’t agree, doesn’t believe me. Shame fills me again. She doesn’t trust me any longer.

Maks is given a moment’s reprieve. She steps to me, jabs a very threatening finger my way. I freeze, sure I deserve it but it still hurts coming from her.

“What would your mother think?” she demands, voice filled with venom. “She left home—fucking moved an _entire_ continent to keep you from this kind of shit. Do you think she’d be proud?”

My mom doesn’t care either way, buried under rubble and never coming back. I bite my lip, look down at the floor. Behind Rey Maks takes a deep breath.

“Rey, don’t.”

“Why?” Rey snaps, voice quivering. She’s crying. “Because she’s dead? You never told me, Edin. How come I find out about it through this—this fucking asshole? How come you won’t tell me anything?”

She has me there. Her questions are things I know the answers to but can’t verbalize. I stay silent, keep my gaze on my boots. This is not something I currently want to discuss. Maks is standing there, jaw tight, questioning why I didn’t tell her either. He thought I did. I agreed to talk to her, after all.

I should tell her the truth, or at least the official answer I’ve already thought up, that I didn’t want to worry her, but I can’t. There are too many emotions tied to that answer and I cannot give Maks any reason to think anything about me beyond what we do. He will use it against me. They will use it against me.

“I’ll stop,” he calmly volunteers before I can come up with anything, crossing his arms and making up his mind. “I will. Just—don’t tell anyone.”

I take his lead, ignoring her accusations. “I’m sorry. We’ll stop, promise.”

Rey’s jaw lowers, more hurt I won’t talk to her than anything. She shakes her head, shakes it harder like that’s not good enough. “Don’t say that. I know you won’t. _He_ fucking won’t.”

She might be right about that but she doesn’t have to be so blunt about it. Maks rolls his eyes, shrugs.

“What’d you come here for? I need to be at a meeting right now. You need to be in Med.” He nods to me. “And you need to be downstairs.”

Every ounce of affection he’s had for me is absent. I make up my mind to push this down, push it away.

Swiping at her cheeks Rey shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I just—I knew it. I knew, didn’t want to believe it but…here you both are. Fuck.”

When she pushes for the door her brother doesn’t bar her, moves aside. Rey escapes, slams the door after her with a bang. I stare at the frame for several seconds. I know Maks is watching me. My heart races, certain I’ve been cut off. This is more painful than I thought it’d be and it proves her point. I hate when Rey’s right.

His gaze flickers to the door, turns and yanks it open. “Come on. You need to be downstairs.”

I nod, slip into the hall before him. His fingertips brush over my wrist. It’s an urge to stay which I take too easily. I turn, already concerned over the volume of people in the hall. Whether or not they’re minding their own business makes me spiral, nerves rising.

“I’ll take care of this,” he murmurs, heads down the way. A nod encourages me to follow so I do. Rubbing a fist over his mouth he leaves this situation in his room, acts as if everything’s fine. “I’ll find you later.”

I don’t know how to feel about that. I slow down my pace, drop away from him as we head to our respective destinations. Since Maks keeps up the act so do I. We will not be caught so long as we’re believable.


	31. XXXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begging is not a good look on anyone but sometimes you have to do it when you don't know how to healthily express yourself.

Friday, June 9th, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

“What do you think?” Rey asks, voice floating over to me in the cafeteria. Glancing up over the table I shrug. I don’t care—she knows I don’t. She’s incredibly good at pretending nothing happened, her desire to keep me here stronger than her resentment. It’d be easier if she’d just ignore me like a normal person. Instead she sits with me whenever we eat, ensures I’m minded during the majority of my free time and snips at me like an annoyed sibling.

It’s super.

“I’d personally go with snow over the heat. It’s not as insufferable.”

She harrumphes. We’re playing ‘would you rather’ which isn’t nearly as fun when she keeps bringing up acidic choices. I’d rather not freeze or melt to death at all.

“How about,” she muses, “being ambushed in the desert or the facility being surrounded?”

I glare down at my lunch, jaw ticking. She’s doing this on purpose. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I get it; you’re pissed.”

“Uh, ye,” she agrees, unsympathetic. “I am. So I guess I need to ask stupid questions to get you to tell me anything.”

My eyes roll, fork moving noodles around my plate. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you suck,” she replies, nonchalant about it. Her voice softens after she sips some water. “But you’re better than nothing.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I reiterate for probably the tenth time. It took a lot of courage to finally tell her that a couple days ago but she didn’t deem it acceptable.

She still doesn’t, lips pursed momentarily. “Of course. See? He’s rubbing off on you, making you think you can do shit for other people.”

That’s the most she’s really told me in days and I can see why she’s so bothered. I’m not Maks though. I don’t butt in just because I can. I just….don’t bring anything up, ever. Okay, so maybe I am, but that’s not what I’m trying to do.

“You would’ve had the same reaction,” I grumble, not hungry any longer.

“I could’ve stopped it,” she insists, voice lowering. So far I haven’t been yanked into Singh’s office and I’d like to keep it that way. “He’s a fucking manipulator, Edin.”

“I _know_ that,” I snap, shoulders hunching. “It’s not serious, Jesus.”

“You wouldn’t still be doing it if it wasn’t,” she hisses back. “You don’t—”

“I get it,” I interrupt before she can keep going, words sharp. “I do, I swear. I’m sorry.”

“I hope you are,” she quips, moodier now. “He’s gonna fuck you over.”

“I hope he does,” I reply, ready to bicker. We’re going in circles anyway. “Will that make you happy? I hope you’re right about everything, not like last time when you told them I—”

“That was a mistake,” she quickly argues, lowering in her seat. “You know I didn’t mean to get you—or him—in trouble.”

My gaze rises to meet hers. I still don’t know if that’s true. I think she knew exactly what she was doing when she thought it was Gabale touching me, she just didn’t know who to blame yet.

Leaning back I scrutinize her, make her uncomfortable for a moment. “You do the same thing he does. You know that, right?”

Disgust moves over her brow, detesting being compared to Maks. “Yeah, but at least I care about you.”

Shame rises up my throat, a reminder she truly does. She knows the situation, knows I’m alone at this point. It’s why she won’t say anything to supervisors, but she’ll gladly berate me over it. I shove noodles into my mouth, mumble a ‘thank you’ so I don’t look too ungrateful.

My afternoon shift downstairs stretches past dinner which is fine. It spares me from another agitating conversation with Rey. It’s been easy all day, only two interrogations in the morning and reports later on. We have a lot of new inmates now though none are too important. Those have already been barked at, questioned relentless and now sit in their cells, worthless.

We’re doing exceedingly well out in the field, Brazil nearly ours again. Somewhere in the facility I overheard Indonesia renegotiated their terms, further adding to our allies. It seems like such a turn from several months ago when things were looking bleak.

If we do begin real negotiations with the enemy I’ll have to start wondering what I’ll do once let go. Honestly there’s no reason to think about it but I know I should. I’m not staying out here, that’s for sure, and I’m not going home. There’s no point.

I stay in reports several hours longer than intended, working through a backlog of requests and sending those out. Several comms want info on a woman captured on the Bangladeshi border. I remember her—she was hysterical the second Basman pulled off her hood, freely admitted to whatever was asked. Per these requests it looks a bit like she’s a bigger liar than me. She may be interrogated several more times if that’s the case.

When I leave for the night I’m tired and agitated, aware of what awaits me upstairs. The first hall I follow sends me past several private offices. Basman’s hanging in one of the doorways, quietly conversing with the inside occupant—Miri, I nervously recognize as I pass. I still haven’t worked with her since the incident with Garza. Apparently flying off the handle gave her a kush office gig.

Despite making my steps quieter he must hear me going by, head ducking out and asking me to hold on. It’s the most he’s spoken to me in days. I grudgingly offer a ‘yes, sir’ and pass several more meters down the hall, hands on my hips.

I don’t know what to do. The majority of me is humiliated I’ve been found out while the rest aches to have him even acknowledging me. It truly was embarrassing being caught, still is, and I know Rey’s right. I _know_ she is. It still doesn’t change my attraction to him.

“Hey,” he offers when he catches up, expression neutral. “You’re doing a fine job, Bashir. A lot of comms are sending good feedback. Wanted to share that.”

Praise? From him? That’s not weird at all. I shrug, uncaring. “I appreciate that, sir.”

He pauses a moment, gaze flickering over the hall then nodding for the stairs. “Walk with me. Let’s figure this out.”

I start walking without him, ignore him best I can. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think we should.”

He’s quiet but I can hear him following me. This makes me nervous. I’ve never rejected him like this before but Rey’s still in my head, yelling at me. He will manipulate me and I will let him. I like our game too much.

“Why not?” he asks once we climb into the stairwell, trailing me right up the steps. “I said don’t worry about it, everything’s handled.”

Uh, Rey still hates me. He hasn’t handled that. I don’t bother turning to address him, focus on ascending.

“Edin.” He takes larger steps, makes it to the landing first to block my path. “Edin, everything’s handled. We’re good. Rey’ll get over it.”

My gaze narrows. I pause and look him over. For someone who’s supposedly serious about her well-being that’s not something he should be saying. He’s being irrational. My eyes flit up to verify there’s no one above us, check for cameras, and then I step on the landing with him.

“She hates me,” I inform him in a growl.

He shrugs, steps the same way I do when I try going around him. “She’ll get over it. She will. Edin—baby, don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

He can say that all he wants but it doesn’t change much. I rub at a temple, feeling a headache coming on. “This has to stop. It’s against the rules.”

“You didn’t care before,” he darkly points out, frowning. I step back toward the railing, aware he’ll use this to his advantage. He does, shadowing me, reaching for a hand and squeezing my palm. “You’re fine. Nothing’s gonna happen, I promise.”

He promises very little to anyone. My back hits the railing. I watch him toy with my hand, the other brushing hair behind my ear. He’s overwhelming.

“Baby,” he quietly urges, thumb running over my cheek. He’s way too close to think clearly. “I don’t want to stop. Don’t make me.”

My stomach works itself into knots. I’m flattered, I think, but I know what he’s trying to do. My back arches, somehow attempting to maintain personal space. I look around him, try to pretend I have morals. “Maks…”

His forehead finds mine, snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me to him. The look he pulls is new, very serious and intent. Even though I can’t look him in the eye his search my face, trying to coax me back.

“Baby, don’t,” he whispers, begging. “Please don’t. Whatever you want, alright? Want easier shifts? Want my cock? I don’t care. Just let me have you. I’ll handle everything else.”

Despite his rubbing against me I go still, feeling very wrong about this all the sudden. He’s offering too much, throwing whatever he thinks will work to snare me. He’s making great guesses, knows exactly what I want.

When his lips brush my jaw I duck my head, think back to what Rey was so upset over. “It’s not just me, is it?”

“It’s just you,” he swears, hold tightening, breathing heavy against my ear. It makes me shiver, enjoying the sensation. “Only you. You want a boyfriend? Is that it?”

Not from him. My head shakes vehemently and I can feel his smile on my skin. One hand’s slipped beneath my top, fingers running up my back. Fuck, he’s winning. He can’t win everything just because I’m weak, that isn’t fair. I push back, force some space between us. He reluctantly allows it.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

He chews on his lip a moment, frustration showing. “Then don’t talk. I don’t care. Have I ever cared?”

This is true. Well, _was_ true until a couple days ago. I don’t know what he’s doing right now—he’s out of his mind as far as I’m concerned—but I _know_ he didn’t want to hurt Rey.

“You told her you’d stop,” I remind him, which earns an incredibly devious smirk.

“So did you,” he replies, tsk-ing. “But that didn’t stop you before.”

“Or you,” I mutter, trying to find more words, anything to buy time. The longer we’re here the more likely it is someone will see and he’ll abandon his pursuit.

His smirk broadens. “You’re not a very good friend, baby.”

Rage consumes my heart for a brief second. How dare he say that? It’s doused immediately, the truth terribly raw. I am not a good friend at all, and Rey still doesn’t want to nail me for this.

“I didn’t mean that,” He quietly remarks, breaking character upon seeing that doesn’t have the desired effect. Face falling, he presses on me, pulling my chin up. Getting me to cry wasn’t the goal. “Fuck, I didn’t—no, no, don’t cry.”

Cupping my cheeks he plants light kisses on my nose, my forehead, my eyelids and everywhere else. It distracts me but I have to lob something back, can’t let him insult me like that. I go with the first thing that comes to mind, squeaking it out.

“You’re not a very good brother, either.”

He laughs faintly, breath light on my skin, and keeps kissing me. “I know, baby. I know.”

He goes on until my tears dry, replaced by a warm blush. I loosen up, convictions sliding, his embrace becoming much more consuming and important. My mouth eventually responds, catches his, and we’re back to a point we can both agree on. His weight holds me to the wall, tongue finding mine, taking his time exploring. The attention makes my whole body quiver, too overwhelmed to do much more than take it.

Breaking off rather abruptly he pulls back to look me over with lowered lids. Offering a distracted smile he nods for the rest of the stairs.

“Please?” he begs again, rocking on his heels, searching for my hand. “Please, baby. I can’t help myself.”

I know I’m not going to tell him to piss off but I pretend to waffle regardless. I like seeing him desperate.

Finally I give him a small nod, wiping at my cheeks for stray tears. “I’ll head up in a bit. I need to…need to talk to her.”

His relief becomes muted as he tries to hide it, attempting to resume his neutral face. “Right. See you soon.”

He heads up first. I wait several minutes so my heart can calm and I can tell Rey the truth. She’s not going to like it but she wants me to talk, so she’s getting everything. At once.


	32. XXXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makeup sex, makeup sex, makeup sex. Maks is laying it on thick, trying real hard to prove this can totally work, it can, really, absolutely not lying, cross his heart and everything.

Rey isn’t pleased by the things I tell her, not about Maks, not about my time in Columbia, and not about my mom. I give her everything I can, unpacking all my emotions in an effort to be transparent and try explaining myself.

She’s not happy but she does commend my consistency. So we come to a compromise. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing and she will not tell, but in return I’m to never tell her brother anything personal. I already do that so it’s easy to agree with. She also wants to hear none of our shenanigans because, of course, it’s seriously nothing she wants to know about Maks.

By the time we’re finished it’s past ten and I wander the dimmer, empty halls with a renewed sense of calm. I think. I’m not entirely sure. I take my time, make sure I look good as I can. Even though I just told Rey my idiotic intentions I have doubts.

But that didn’t stop me before and it’s not stopping me now, somehow. I still punch in the lock code and enter staff housing, ducking down Maks’ hall. My conscience feels less clear than earlier, beginning to question why I’d be so fine with this in the first place. What _would_ my mom think? I’m analyzing it too much, forgetting this means nothing.

Rey asked at least twenty times if I was sure this was only to cope and I told her, time and time again, that it truly means nothing. If she thinks I’m lying…well, I’m still trying to figure it out, too.

At his door I knock twice, softly, remind myself this is not a trap. It takes a moment but the door clicks open, Maks’ bemused face filling the gap. In an instant I forget why I was apprehensive, let him pull me inside, securing the door behind us. It’s easy enough to do when he presses us on the frame, smile growing into something I don’t recognize. It makes me blush, convinced he truly is some kind of crazy. I must like it if I’m still here.

“What’s gotten into you?” I wonder, shyly studying him for answers. He looks me over, eyes finally moving to mine before offering a curt shake of the head.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he remarks, arms circling around my waist. He’s about as excited as a teenager on their first date. It makes me laugh. My nerves bubble up which encourages him closer, nose brushing against mine. I accept his kiss, let him draw me closer to move deeper.

Discussing our new terms keeps coming to mind but I shove it down, sure he doesn’t want to talk about it, not when he’s already moving us to the bed. That seems odd to me, that he doesn’t want to even acknowledge anything occurred, or that this deeply hurts his sister so perhaps we ought to be more careful.

God, stop thinking. Stop. It’s not helping.

He takes me with when he falls onto the sheets, holding me in place while I kick off my boots. His hands easily find my ass, generously squeezing it.

“I think you were worried,” I tease between kisses, nipping his lower lip. His face glows despite denying the accusation, body language betraying him.

“Not possible. This is nothing.”

“Right,” I coo, wiggling up his body, an elbow resting at his side. One of his hands travels up my backside, his gaze mirroring mine. My grin broadens: I think I’ve found his relaxed side. Took long enough.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” I softly continue, lids lowering and placing a kiss along his jaw, then neck. He tilts his head back, eyes closing, allowing me to give him several petite hickies. His body shifts beneath me, a leg wrapping over mine, encouraging me to stay put. The fact he won’t answer tells me he’s content so I have to take advantage while I can.

I pull back, counter his pout with a knowing brow. “You said I could have easier shifts?”

“Done,” he answers, not concerned in the slightest. I frown, continue staring at him.

“That was too easy.”

His shoulders lower in a calm shrug. “I’m good on my offers.”

“Ye,” I drawl, “but earlier…”

His hand finds my head, draws it closer so he can kiss me again. This is not how he normally operates. It catches me off guard, makes me question what he wants but he keeps kissing, gives the simplest of answers. “I want you, baby. That’s it. What else do you want?”

I beam, delighted he’s indulging in my desires. Rolling off his chest I fit to his side, one hand sneaking beneath his shirt. “I don’t care about shifts. But…I do want a few things.”

He’s listening, mouth turning into a twitching, bemused line. “My other suggestions?”

I nod fervently. My fingers find his pecs, stroking thick muscle. “Ye. I do want…that.”

“Say it,” he whispers, unable to hide his elation. I’m blushing, enjoying this comfortable moment with him. Embarrassment isn’t a thing in his room. He turns toward me, envelopes me. “Don’t be shy, baby. Tell me what you want.”

I suck in my lower lip. It’s really hard to be serious right now, not when he’s so present. “I want your cock. I want you.”

His hold tightens, one hand seeping through my hair. I can feel his cock growing against me. “How, baby? You want it hard? Slow? Want to make love like they do in movies? I can do whatever you like.”

He’s demonstrated the majority of his capabilities before but the options induce a shiver. I nod to everything, hand immediately working back down to his sweats. “Mm. All of it. Please.”

“You’re so cute,” he whispers, folding me up in his arms in a hug. He squeezes tight, so much I can barely breathe but I wouldn’t have it any other way. His hips roll on me, lust taking over. I reciprocate, relaxing and letting him take control.

His movements become quick, serious, pushing over me and impatiently working off my shirt. It’s easy enough, my bra his next target, tossed on the floor in a hurry. When he reaches for my pants my fingers gingerly brush over his shirt. He smiles faintly, pauses in his mission and pulls it off to show me the canvas that is his torso. I stare, unashamed. Whatever I want it seems he’ll do. Knowing this makes me feel incredibly powerful.

I start to help, shimmying out of my pants but he holds me still, gives me a look that promises he’ll take care of them. I lift my arms over my head, stretch generously, and pose. His jaw loosens, distracted. We are, I suddenly realize, very good at giving one another what we want.

Once my pants are gone he takes his time rising on both knees between my thighs, carefully studying the skin beneath him. All that’s left are my panties and his sweats and if he thinks he can keep those on he’s wrong. We’ve taken a good deal of time doing nothing but strip so he finally sheds the last of his clothes and then my panties, lingering on them. They’re pulled over my ass before he lifts my legs together, sliding it free.

Finally.

Normally he likes to talk, boasting what he’s going to do and in general riling me up but today he’s mostly quiet, letting his actions speak instead. Wherever he learned to make a girl feel special I must commend, the face he makes when his fingers brush over my slit one of the best I’ve seen on him. It’s coy, secretive, like this is his and his alone. He rubs a knuckle over my clit, gaze flickering to meet mine. I watch him, try not to squirm too much. An approving rumble accompanies several fingers stroking my inner walls, pleased to find I’m already wet.

How could I not? I’ve been thinking about him all evening, sure this somehow wasn’t going to work out yet here I am anyway. I just really, really want his attention no matter how weird it feels continuing. I can’t help it: he’s addictive and I want him. Like he said, he wants what he wants. Some things can’t be changed.

His touch becomes more insistent, lowering over me to place generous kisses along my ribs and up my chest, breath teasing over my breasts. My back arches further, letting his lips catch on one peak, obliged to suck it between his teeth. Electricity pulses through me, his tongue fluttering over the stiff bud. I moan softly, writhe beneath him. His chest fills with want and he pulls harder, fingers vibrating within me. When he switches nipples his thumb rotates over my slit, clearly seeking a reaction. I give it to him, skin flushing, body heating up.

My hips move, try to match his rhythm but it’s impossible. He keeps it up, mouth darting up my neck and finding mine, tongue parting my lips. It’s all very slow and deliberate, my head falling back to his sheets the more he presses into me. The second I start whining, eager to come, his actions intensify. His thumb passes back and forth over my clit, strumming it. My whining crescendos and his lip curls in a grin, pleased when he can feel my pussy clench around his fingers. I can’t help myself, crying into his mouth, eyes shut tight. That first wave is always such a rush, an instant hit of oxytocin coating over my body.

He has the gall to chortle softly, breaking off and nuzzling my cheek, then neck, weight pulling down on me while my nerves settle. He doesn’t help much, still moving within me, albeit slower. It encourages me to turn into him, an arm casually wrapping around his neck.

Groaning, he brings wet digits to my lips, grins when my tongue laps over them. He gets immense pleasure out of watching me suck anything, his thumb, his fingers, his dick…anything. My mind buzzes just thinking about it, his cock settled right against my thigh just in case I have a need for it, which I think I do. I kind of want it in my mouth, specifically to see his face. He makes the best faces.

I reach for it, wrap my hand around it and slowly run up and down it’s length. His lids lower, breath heavy. Men will never disturb a woman if she’s touching his cock. It’s a scientific fact and he’s not going to skew such data.

“Baby,” he whispers, thumb stroking my cheek. I nod, lean into his touch, enjoying being pet. This results in his lips finding my forehead, kissing matted hair before rolling me closer into his embrace. His affection is intoxicating, reminding me I’ll do whatever he wants if he’ll continue fucking me. I don’t care what it takes to make it happen. I keep pumping his cock, the sounds he makes priceless.

He bears down, nose ticking my neck. “Mm. Baby, I want to do bad things to you.” When I giggle he nods seriously into my hair. “I do, I can’t help it. You’re so fucking sexy like this, it makes me want to tear you apart.”

The idea sends excited shivers up my spine. I take his pause as an opportunity, pushing him back and shifting to my knees. He watches me, sprawling out on the bed in all his naked glory, an obnoxious grin idling on his face.

“Do you want to tie me up?” I innocently murmur, battling eyelashes his way once I’m between his thighs. His head falls back, eyes shuttering at the thought. I start reaching for anything that sounds like it’d excite him, anything to induce loss of self control. That’s what I want from him. Because when he’s focused on sex, that’s all I can think about, too. “Choke me? Please? I like your fingers around my neck, Maks. I like when you show me who’s in charge, when you overwhelm me.”

Did I really just say that? I have to practice more, make it sound more natural, but his cock jumps in my hands nevertheless. His lips twitch wryly, one forearm thrown over his eyes.

“Do more n’ that if I had time.”

I bet he would. My mouth waters and I lower, tongue flattening against his cock’s underside. The strangled noise he emits is divine and I can’t tell if he’s doing it to egg me on or if it’s actually enjoyable. Either way I envelope his shaft in my mouth, try to take as much of it as I can. His fingers ardently grasp at my hair, gathering a good section of it in one fist and guiding my head, forcing his cock further down my throat. It’s uncomfortable, my gag reflex lurching in warning but I won’t stop him. Why? I just told him I want him dominating me.

He lets up anyway, a need to touch me more pressing. Resting on one elbow he grabs my breasts, rolls their peaks between his fingers, way too aware they’re directly connected to my core. It makes me forget I’m near choking, gives me reason to keep going, occasionally looking up to see that glazed look corrupting his usual resting bitch face. That look tells me I’m doing something right.

Distracted, his hand eventually finds and cups my cheek. I can feel his cock twitching, balls tightening when I move to caress them. He groans, softly clapping my cheek.

“Baby, stop,” he hisses, already pulling himself upright. “I wanna…God, I wanna fuck you.”

Member still in my mouth I pause, try not to smile. He feels it, catches my chin and pulls me away so he can admire the full grin. Sitting up I wipe at my lips, waiting for his direction. Despite his very obvious desire he seems hesitant, watching me carefully.

“Please,” I beg, voice barely audible. I’m at the point of no return. I want what he’s offering, what he’s telling me in between his words. He will give me everything I could possibly desire so long as I play along.

He still hesitates, swallowing thickly. It drives me crazy, makes me think he’s holding out. The time to think about this was long ago, _months_ ago.

“Please,” I repeat, lower lip jutting out.

It snaps him out of whatever he was thinking about. Hungrily eyeing my lips he captures my other cheek and draws toward me, both of us dropping back to the mattress as his mouth assaults mine, tongues warring. His hand sweeps beneath me, arranges me just so, knees knocking mine apart. He’s rushing, spreading my lower lips and sinking into me, burying himself before I can change my mind. My breath catches, the tight stretch sending a nice thrum through my belly, my vision spinning.

When he lowers himself upon me, one arm cradling my head, I hook a leg over his ass to ensure he stays right there and he responds with his hips. His thrusts are slow at first, picking up a quicker tempo as he loses himself, focused entirely on one thing. I love the feel of his damp skin on mine, his breath on my ear as he presses down, tongue occasionally tracing over the shell of my ear.

I love how impossibly close he is, how I can’t even move without him knowing. The only kind of movement he wants is from between my thighs as I try to rock with him. Everything else he lords over, holds me down, demands compliance from. I give it to him, panting against his broad shoulder, everything beyond him gone. This is what I’ve needed for days, what I’ll willingly put up with dumb behavior for.

His teeth nibble my ear so I bite his shoulder, shivering when he hisses. His strokes grow more forceful, pulling me tight enough to him I can feel his heart hammering in his chest, reverberating against mine. My inside are opening, trying to coerce him deeper. My once useless arms slap around him, nails digging into his back, clinging to him. His cock rubs against that one sweet spot, pushing sparks through my blood. It feels too good. I need more.

“Oh my God,” I gasp into him, that electric sensation spreading from my slit. “Maks, please…”

“Please what, baby?” he raggedly asks, never slowing down. If anything he pushes harder, driving me into the mattress. I turn my head against his neck, eyes shutting tight. My body’s going rigid. I can’t move when I’m like this.

“Please don’t stop,” I beg, voice quivering. My pussy aches, desperate to reach that threshold. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

He makes the sweetest noise of relief and bares down. It seems like he rolls onto his back with little effort, bringing me with and continuing like nothing’s changed. The only difference is now he can grab my ass, still pumping into me at the same pace. My hands are trapped so I stretch on his chest, try to find his mouth so I can offer mine.

Sucking on my lip a moment he then draws my head back to his shoulder, fingers digging into my neck, the other hand giving my ass a sharp slap. I falter on him, hide in his half embrace, open my pelvis to better accommodate him. He slaps me again, making me keen harder. My skin is suddenly on fire, body tingling from head to toe.

The pressure that built between my hips crashes, breaking over me and forcing me to freeze up, every muscle clamping to hold him within even as he keeps moving. He groans when my pussy squeezes him harder. Whispered praise gushes against my hair, mingling with the buzzing in my ears. This is what I’ve been craving.

He pauses, a crime against humanity in my opinion at this point, and taps my ass. I can’t figure out what he wants and moan, eliciting an affectionate sigh from him.

“Up,” he coaxes, kisses rough. “Ride me for a bit.”

“I can’t,” I automatically pant, sure my legs will refuse. This makes him laugh. He pushes me upright anyway when he leans forward, easing me until I’m sitting and hazily blinking at his chest. Holding my hands he places them around his collar, nodding at me to go ahead.

Dazed, I experimentally rock my hips, surprised by how wet I am. He flashes his teeth in a genuine smile, utters a heady moan when I squeeze him between my thighs and start a subtle grind. Letting go of one hand his fingers draw to my exposed slit. I bite my lip and let my head roll to the side, his soft touch extremely sensitive on my clit. It reacts to him, throbbing and making me squirm. His grin becomes obnoxious, chest filling with a breath and muscles sliding beneath his skin.

I love seeing him like this. He truly is attractive, an unfortunate thing given the cocktail of boredom and aggression he harbors.

“Baby,” he says in that husky voice he uses when he wants something. It drags my attention to his blissed out face mere inches from mine, taking me in like he’s never seen me before. He’s too good at this game. “You look so fucking good. I wanna get you come drunk. I want you so fucked up you don’t even know what’s going on.”

I don’t precisely know what that means but I have an idea, blushing and nodding feverishly. If he can get me to that point then my feelings toward this meeting weren’t for nothing.

“Please,” I demur, licking my lips, the tips of my fingers brushing over the back of his neck. I rock a little harder, want to make it difficult for him. It doesn’t have much effect other than to egg him on.

Starting right away he thumbs over my clit at an increased speed. It’s too close to my last orgasm so the next comes easily, harshly, makes my hips jump. This one’s not nearly as pleasurable as the last, leaving me wanting more. He soothes my worry, assuring me it’ll build.

Still hard he resumes fucking me, holding my hips so I stay put in his lap. I feel lightheaded, my senses out of alignment. The longer I stay seated the more the last wave fades but his lust doesn’t. He finds my dependence cute, enjoys that I’m using him to hold myself up, giving him easy access to toy with my breasts and suck on any flesh he can reach.

I put up with his ramming, balls slapping between our skin. It feels too good, the idea to do more than hang on too much. He comes fairly quickly however, eyes rolling back as he gasps, cock swelling within me a long moment, heat radiating from my slit. His pleasure floods into mine, makes coming here entirely worth it. My nails rake over his back, lids hooded, subtly watching the way he moves.

Once he comes down he keeps his hold on me, calmly stroking my hair and giving us both a second to recuperate. I offer him several more kisses to stay occupied. It keeps him entertained, interest showing in how his hold tightens.

When his heart’s slowed he gently brings us back down to the mattress and rolls me off him, resting me at his side and propping my head into the crook of his arm. His gaze roves over me, a soft smirk developing on his lips. I mirror the reaction, enjoying the heat he provides so close to me. He enjoys my body too, of course, touching me in a variety of places and sampling flesh until several digits inevitably end up buried in my slit. Gasping, he mocks surprise over what he finds.

“Baby,” he purrs, tongue on my skin. “Look at you. You’re a mess.”

That’s his fault. I respond with a needy pout and nudge him. Hovering over me he dips, lips ghosting over mine. His fingers ply deeper, rubbing hard along my inner walls. My legs relax and let him explore. Everything about me buzzes ecstatically, and a soft moan escapes my lips when he strokes faster. Soon enough I can feel that beautiful sensation building deep within me. I curl into him, try to force him deeper. His breath is hot on me, adoring my concentrated brow but I’m not the only one focusing. His entire arm pivots, spearing at a spot deeper than what I’m used to. The control I have over my body slips, becomes his with each forceful stroke.

I can’t keep my mouth shut. Without warning something breaks within me and I jerk backward with a harsh gasp. Maks keeps up his pace, coming with me and ensuring that spot is tapped. His head ducks, mouth capturing a tit and sucking just as needily. I can’t not cry out, voice strangled. I feel like I’m falling apart. Everything within me pulses, chemicals drugging my nerves.

When he slides over my clit it’s like he’s torn down a dam. I choke out a muffled curse, mind numb while something gushes from my pussy. My heart screams and I writhe against him, unsure I’ve ever felt this way before. Blackness envelopes my vision briefly, surrounds my thoughts and the rest of my senses. I forget where we are, a euphoric haze pulling me into a dark cocoon. It congratulates me for being such a good girl.

“Ye, good girl.”

No, that’s Maks. Numbness abiding I remember I’m sprawled on his bed, his figure still hanging on my side, cheeks ruddy as he watches over me. I blink up at him for several seconds, mind slowly coming back into focus, his light kisses helping. I feel…different. Not better but…taken care of.

“You good?” he quietly asks, voice smooth, trying to hide his amusement. It takes me another second to figure out what he means and I sigh, nod ambivalently.

“Is that…this…?”

He confirms it is with a grunt, kisses my shoulder. He’s already hard again, erection pulsing at my side. I take another deep breath, enjoying the fresh sensation running along my veins. It’s like someone picked me up and shook every toxin out of me, giving me another chance to start anew.

The room seems so quiet now. I look back to Maks, unsure what to do. He takes the hint and pulls my back against his chest. His hands feel different when they wander over me, more taught or strong or…something. My eyes close of their own accord, melting in his hold. He shifts my hips, whispering sweet words in my ear, cock finding my slit one more time and easing in.

It’s surreal, like I’m still in a dream and I moan, arching to let him fit better. He takes his time, lazily pumping into me and exploring my soft body with the attention of an expert. I let him do whatever he wishes, completely out of it. His touch is too enjoyable to stop.

Despite his slow strokes he comes all too soon, clutching at me, heart beating hard on my ribs. Helpless in his embrace I coo, love when he sucks on my skin and leaves new marks. I want this all the time, never want to come down from whatever he’s given me.

He of course breaks my meditative state, smoothes tangled hair behind one ear for me. His nose touches the soft spot just beneath it, breath warming my damp neck.

“See, baby?” he remarks, muscles constricting to hold me tighter. “I can be a fucking gentleman, too. Whatever you want I’ll give it to you.”

He’s terrible at speaking when he’s not trying to be sexy and it makes me faintly snicker. Rubbing up on him I twist my neck, reach to caress his jaw.

“Mm, do that again and I won’t care what you do. Just don’t stop.”

“Of course, baby,” he dreamily answers, nuzzling the nape of my neck. “Anything you like.”

He lets me drift off, my mind empty and at peace.


	33. XXXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justified spats-Edin never wants to divulge her secrets but then she expects people to tell her what's going on. Maks just doesn't like being called out on his BS.

Sunday, March 16th, 2059, Moscow.

Moscow’s towers rise well past the dark clouds, looking like some sort of dystopian future when viewed so close. My face is pressed to the car’s glass, looking up at such tall structures even if the constant rain obscures how much I can actually see.

I thought it was going to be a bit more horrid coming here, what with it’s reputation for mass graves and the like, but it looks like any other giant metropolis. The only thing that really even makes this feel stranger than home is Maks sprawled next to me in the backseat, his fingers laced tight with mine and having a nonchalant conversation with our driver in words I can’t begin to understand. Russian wasn’t one of the languages they thought we’d need in school.

They both laugh wholeheartedly and I shift uncomfortably, crossing my legs the other way. Our bags are in the trunk and an expensive purse sits on my lap, a necessity according to my ‘husband’ in these parts. He acts like I’ve never dealt with socialites back home. I can play whatever part is needed but I would’ve preferred not to look the part, my dress too tight and material too thin for this latitude.

He, being a guy, didn’t think to grab an accompanying jacket.

Our taxi meanders beneath the city’s colossal shadows for fifteen more minutes, pushing our intended arrival even later in the evening. Maks and the driver lose interest in small talk and he occasionally speaks to me, idle chat about whatever family we’re pretending to return to and how they’ll love our gifts. I smile and nod, pretend I care. His words make me anxious. I don’t know the people he’s bringing me to, don’t know this part of the world and certainly not what to do should he abandon me now.

But…if he says it’s safe here I have to believe him. I already left my home, already had him dig a chip out of me. The state, I’m sure, might want to have a word if they ever find me.

The car parks in an alley sandwiched between two gigantic residential towers. Leaning forward Maks offers our driver plenty of money, more than I’m sure the trip called for. He’s done that with every interaction. I wait until he gets out and swings around the car, opens the door and pulls me out so I can totter in my heels while he and the driver unload our bags. Unlike home the rain here is frigid, soaking my shoulders quickly and making me shiver. At least it’s not snowing but I’d almost prefer that.

My ‘husband’ nods to the tower on our left and I follow him and the driver that way, pretend I am incapable of carrying anything on my own. I may actually be considering the pavement beneath my heels is slippery. In front of me I keep an eye on Maks, and our bags. He looks the part of an eager newlywed in a nice suit he insists he bought in town, fooling everyone we’ve encountered thus far with charm I didn’t know he could carry outside the bedroom and an air of confidence that comes from being important. How he’s important, I don’t know, but I can tell he is.

That makes me even more anxious.

We climb a steep set of stairs to the front doors. Swiping a keycard Maks nods for our driver to head in first, following with the rest of our things. I cautiously shadow them, arms tightly crossed over my chest. It’s warmer in the lobby but I’m still cold. When we reach the elevators our driver finally bids us farewell, congratulating us on our marriage in broken words. While we wait Maks wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him, murmurs an apology for forgetting a coat. I shrug it off, pretend everything’s fine. Being angry with him gets me nowhere, not when I’m still ashamed I didn’t even know I was chipped.

He sets our things in the first lift that arrives and up we go. It stops according to his keycard access, somewhere near the top. I have to believe that given how long the ride is. I spend the entire trip eyeing the mirrored ceiling, studying him from the head down. He must notice, lower lip twitching in amusement, but says nothing about it. Once the doors slide open he hauls our things into a nicely carpeted hallway staged with overgrown potted plants and exaggerated paintings lining the wall. I see no cameras so I take off my heels and grab a bag.

“Stay with me,” he warns as we amble down the quiet hall, passing only a few doors. Each apartment must be huge. I can only imagine what he’s about to take me to. “Dunno who’s up but we need to check in—you need to be checked.”

Checked for any further tracings, I guess. He never really specified what else needed to be done while here besides forming a plan so I play along, agreeing to whatever he says.

He stops at a door on our right, the last one on this floor. With another swipe of his card the door clicks open, shushes to the side to let us in. When Maks steps over the threshold I follow, finding myself in a dimly lit foyer.

I guess I was hoping for something nice, something sort of along the lines of a regular apartment, perhaps nicer given the building we’re in, but it’s not. It looks like prison, like the facility, like everything I’ve left behind. Previous shivers return, limbs quivering while I look around. It’s stark, function-only furniture and cold floors. There are no decorations and the windows are covered. In a large living area two figures hunch over a long table.

They turn, their conversation ceasing. One of them, a man, smiles coldly. The other, an older woman, does not. I don’t think they’ve heard good things about me and now here I am, in their space and wearing gaudy clothing. It’s not a good feeling.

“That the bitch?” the man inquires. His accent is foreign though I’m more focused on his insult, my chest flushing crimson.

“She came willingly?” the woman asks a beat later before Maks can respond. He takes in their questions, offers a slight nod. I look away, wonder why their windows are covered. We’re too far up for prying gazes. This will only be a few days. We’ll plan, then we’ll leave. I don’t have to like it but it’ll be safe. Maks promised that anyway.

“Ngo,” he directs to the woman, shifting to pull off his coat. “Can you check her?”

“You haven’t?”

Maks’ brow lowers, annoyed. “I told Wulf. Where is he?”

Sighing, Ngo rises and rounds the table, arms stretched over her head as she heads toward us. I back up before I can stop myself, hide behind Maks. I barely trust him but these people are strangers and they apparently know what I did if they’ve deemed me a bitch. I do not wish to be alone with them.

Stepping around Maks Ngo hooks elbows with me regardless, laughing when my body goes rigid. She pulls me deeper into the apartment, looking me up and down. “Relax. If we wished to murder you we wouldn’t have made Basman bring you back. Tell me, when was the last time you had a physical?”

I twist to look back at Maks but he’s already engaged with the other man, both softly picking up a conversation that definitely doesn’t include me.

She takes me to a room in the back of the apartment. It was probably intended to be a den but with all the crates and locked cabinets it looks like Ngo utilizes it as an office. She has me sit on a storage box and takes several external tests, asking me questions every few moments. I give one-word answers and keep my gaze on the floor. When she asks how long I lived in Hong Kong I don’t even bother with that one, sure she’s already aware.

My temperature is taken, skin examined along with my eyes and ears. I don’t know why this is needed, don’t understand what it has to do with being ‘checked’. When Maks told me it was necessary I guess I thought it meant something else. Perhaps it does, my heart skipping nervously when she unlocks a cabinet and pulls out a medical kit. She’s very professional about it all, demonstrates a syringe and holds up a small vial of blue liquid.

“Microchips can leave residue within your system,” she explains, uncapping the bottle and sucking up what she deems necessary. “Or, it’s entirely possible you’ve more within you, waiting to explode the second you stray too far. The first dose ought to have destroyed any leftovers but it’s best to be certain.”

I shrink when she steps close, look at the door. For one I don’t know what she means about a first dose and two, she literally just took this out of some random cabinet. They say they don’t want to murder me but I’m sure they probably do. I helped fuck up a lot of people’s lives.

But, paranoia reasons with me, if they want me dead then surely Maks would like to watch.

Holding out an arm I let her jab it near the crook of the elbow, knees bouncing. Ngo compliments my dress under the guise of kindness but I don’t say anything more. When she finishes she returns to her cabinet, cleans up and puts everything away. She keeps talking, voice soft and soothing, about how I luckily wasn’t summoned earlier in the year, how just last week there were drifts of snow past her knees all over the city.

I do not care, my arm throbbing mildly. I look to the door again, wonder how long it really would take for anyone back home to find me. The state is relentless, a beast in it’s own right. Whether it cares where I’ve gone is one thing, but another thing entirely to actively do anything about it.

The last time we spoke face to face they weren’t impressed with me as I think they wanted to be. Probably because I did not have the information they were seeking.

As I’m thinking about this the effects sneak up on me, hit through my veins at once. There’s no time to shriek or accuse Ngo of drugging me. I’m slumping off the crate instead and into darkness. It’s almost a relief: I’ve been waiting for the moment for years.

But it’s not my time, apparently. I twitch awake what feels like only a second later, like no time’s passed whatsoever yet it has to given I push upright on a bed. It’s not nearly as comfortable as my own.

Aside from that I immediately panic, eyes darting around to survey a small room stocked with more crates, some devices and a lamp. I can hear a shower going nearby and twist, an alcove for a washroom to my left and a door in the room’s far corner. I’m still in the dress from earlier, everything the same as before aside from a sore arm.

Hyperventilating anyway I push off the bed and look myself over, pat my hair, twirl about to look for any kind of clue as to what’s going on. There’s nothing. I don’t want to open the door. If we’re still in the apartment I don’t want to go out there. Vomit pushes up my throat so I force myself to the washroom, slide open the door and drop to my knees in front of the toilet. The fact someone’s in the shower is ignored—this is more important.

Maks’ soft laughter reaches my ears between dry heaves. “You good?”

I finish up before addressing him, exhaustion forcing me reeling against the wall, eyes shut tight. It’s almost worse I can’t expel anything. Everything’s spinning whether or not I can see it, telling me it’d be better to puke.

The shower stops, a towel unfurled. Several moments later I can feel his footsteps over the cool floor, stopping near me. This is humiliating on too many levels and I can’t handle him right now. I slap a hand over my sweating forehead, slowly dragging it down.

“There’s some water by my bed,” he explains, voice too close. “It’ll help.”

“She drugged me.” My swipe doesn’t connect with anything so I try again, still hitting only air. “What the fuck—what do you want from me, what is this?”

He doesn’t answer. I have to open my eyes, have to look up at his wet figure. At least the towel’s wrapped around his waist, gives me a good reason not to stare. He waits until he’s sure I won’t continue, then nods back to the room.

“Go get some water.” My stare at his calves must not be satisfying because he sighs. “I’ll get it.”

Venturing into his room he grabs clothes, changes into sweats and a loose shirt before returning. A bottle is placed in front of me and then he lowers on his haunches, puts us near eye level with one another. My glare is more reproachful than his bored expression. I’m not taking anything he offers until I get answers.

“Did you do any tests on our way here?” I demand, Ngo’s explanation still not making sense. Jaw rotating, he shrugs like it couldn’t be helped.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re clean so we’re good.”

“What did she do?” I counter, furtively glancing at the bottle. Water does sound good. “What’d you do? Maks, what is this? I said I’d help, not—”

“Don’t worry—”

“Say that again and we’re gonna have a problem,” I snap, nerves on edge, sure they’re trying to do something to me. It’s probably the most anger I’ve shown since he found me but right now I don’t care. I reach for the wall, need to remove myself from him. Dizziness makes me stumble and he, unfortunately, catches my arm before I dive. My back meets the wall and despite my whining protests he pushes up on me.

“You’re gonna drink some water,” he growls, gripping my wrists tight. “And you’re gonna lay back down. That shit’s not out of your system and it’s gonna feel like a wicked hangover until it is. Don’t fucking worry about what it did. I wouldn’t bring you here if I wanted you dead.”

His hold indicates he’s not joking. He presses harder into me, makes my insides coil uneasily. I know I should back down but I can’t, this nauseating feeling and previous experiences screaming that this is not a good situation. I squirm ineffectively, chest filling with more panic, meltdown imminent. This is not the kind of torture I imagined happening here.

“Baby,” he hisses, darting in front of my face, gaze intent. He squeezes my wrists too hard, gets me to stop lolling my head and at least bang it back on the wall, panting. “Look at me. Calm down.”

I shake my head, make the spinning worse, which induces tears, which makes the need to get away from him that much more pressing. He can’t see me cry. That’s how he’ll get to me, figure out my vulnerabilities. He already thinks I have some sort of special relationship with the state. Anger relieves those tears and I push back, completely uncomfortable at the moment.

“Get off me,” I tell him, desperation palpable in each word. “Maks, get off. I need space.”

“Edin,” he urges, voice low. My protests don’t encourage him to step away. “I’ve been very patient with you. Don’t fuck yourself like this.”

“I’m not a prisoner,” I testily inform him, aware my words will hurt. That’s the point. “I came with you, Maks, not the other way around—don’t fuck _yourself_ like this.”

His thigh shoves between my legs and he practically fuses me to the damp wall, covering me with his body. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, nostrils flared as he forces his forehead to mine. This is much more uncomfortable than before and it genuinely scares me.

“You think I treat you like one?” he breathes, chest rising, intently studying me. I’ve had him this close before, seen him pissed previously, but this feels different. It could be his vexed appearance, could be the fact I have no idea what just happened, but this makes me nervous, brings my pulse skyrocketing. I don’t want to back down. I’m right. I know I’m right. He’s treating me this way because he knows he can, because he thinks I need to redeem myself but there’s nothing I owe him.

What’s he going to do, kill me? Hurt me? Both would be a waste given how far we’ve traveled. If he tries he knows I won’t cooperate. Anything else doesn’t matter. I’ve already conquered my crazy years ago; he can’t outdo me right now, not when I’m in such a panicked state.

“Have I ever made you bleed?” he presses, words rumbling dangerously on my skin. “Made you scream, made you cry? I can if you’d like, baby, if that’s what you think of me.”

He’s offended, doesn’t enjoy being labeled an interrogating guard, not from me. I don’t care at the moment. My fingers quiver, anxious to have control again. His grip hurts terribly.

“Let go of me,” I quickly order again, lip curling. He doesn’t, merely searches my face, wondering where this is coming from. His cock pulses against my inner thigh and I nudge it away, try to give myself space. “Maks, let go. Don’t get pissy with me. I’m not going to keep following you around like an idiot, I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” he wants to know, fitting me to him with a single pull and dragging me from the washroom. My head spins and I lean into him, stumble with him, unsure where I’m going with this. “Hm? Tell me.”

I obviously won’t, struggling to keep up with him even as he pushes me back onto the bed. He pins my arms to my sides and holds me on the edge. My gaze narrows, legs kicking just as violently. He smirks down at me, cocks his head.

“Of course you won’t tell me,” he murmurs, tsk-ing. “That’s right, you won’t fucking tell me anything so why should I tell you?”

My instincts to thrash evaporate and I go still. He’s right. He has no reason to tell me, not when I’m keeping what he wants to know hidden. It’s still not fair. I didn’t drag him across a continent. I didn’t drug him. I just…won’t give him an answer.

I melt into the mattress, avert my gaze to the sheets. He’s successfully distracted me from what I wanted to know and I’ve successfully angered him. What a great resolution.

“Can I have some water?”

He lets up, straightening. The room’s so quiet without either of us snarling. “You calmed down?”

I offer a meek nod, go limp to show I’m not going to keep fighting. There’s no point, not when we both know where we stand. He goes and retrieves the bottle, hands it over to my weak palm. I lift my head, greedily take several long sips. In the meantime he swivels to face the door, leaning against the bed and taking several deep breaths himself.

“There’s another room if you want it,” he awkwardly mentions, unable to look at me now. We’re both embarrassed. “I told Ngo you’d feel better here but if you—”

“I’ll stay here,” I whisper before he can finish, already certain of that.

“Alright,” he mutters, glancing over one shoulder to me. I take another drink, shuddering sensitively. He’s right: it does feel like a hangover.

“Don’t leave me alone with them,” I beg, doing my best to make it not sound so desperate. “Please. I don’t know them.”

“They won’t hurt you,” he insists, softer this time. I don’t care what his opinion is, he doesn’t understand the predicament I’m in.

“But they know me,” I retort, knees drawing together in fear. “They know what I did.”

“They want to use you, not kill you,” he clarifies, unsure how else to say it. It doesn’t sway my concern. I know he’s doing the same thing, using me for vengeance. If I’m not useful there’s no reason to keep me company. Might as well entice him to stay close so I don’t have to deal with the others.

I struggle to my side, lids lowering in thought. My head’ll explode soon from unearthing the things buried within me but if we’re going to seek out Rey’s killer then he needs to know at least a few things. “There’s a comm in Sofia. He’s the one I spoke to, he’s the one who led interrogations.” Maks’ back hunches at the mention of an interrogation but I ignore it. “If Rey were to follow the trail it would’ve started with him.”

This catches his attention more than anything. Turning fully to me Maks presses a hand to my shoulder, expression strained.

“Who is he?”


	34. XXXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin and Rey actually get a shift together! Good old fashioned girl time :)

Tuesday, June 20th, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

“Devin transferred last month,” Rey remarks, gingerly examining the gun in her hands. “His unit’s been sent to aid down in Australia. Isn’t that wild? Like, what do they even want down there? Let them have that hellhole.”

I smile knowingly and look out over the shimmering tundra around our facility. It’s just past eight in the morning but it’s already too hot, both of us sweltering in our uniforms. After some intense begging I finally convinced Rey to take a shift outside, our routes conveniently coinciding for once. She had to take a refresher on weapons but I personally think that’s a good thing.

Besides, fresh air never harmed anyone and she needs it after the past month. She’s already less bitter, the rolling landscape before us filled with stiff yellow grass and pops of orange and purple flowers spread in all directions. It’s a stark contrast compared to the neutral colors we’re mostly exposed to in the facility. She even has her jacket off, arms burning under the sun.

Mine are still burned from a round yesterday. Eyes following a flock of birds across the sky I think about what we really could do with Australia. It’s like an oven there, too. All year round. “Resources, I guess?”

“Yeah but like, that’s what we have everywhere else for,” she complains, smirking anyway. She always gets that smirk when she talks about Devin. Somehow they’ve managed to keep up some kind of relationship. He’s still sent no dick pictures though, so I’m not sure how their relationship works.

Wiping at my forehead I glance her way, study her. She looks happier. She should’ve come out here ages ago. “Hey, half a year and then you can beg to be transferred to that hellhole, too.”

She shudders, tongue sticking out at the idea. “No way. He can transfer here. Or—oh! We could try for Lagos again. I’d transfer easily what with all those rehab facilities.”

That she would. I would not, but I don’t think I want to go anywhere anyway. I…don’t have a reason to leave, not yet.

“You’d do good there,” I tell her, meaning it. “How much longer until you can, you know, be the one stitching people up?”

“Not soon enough,” she snorts, softly kicking at the ground. “I need eight more months of residency, whatever that means to my comm. Until then I get to do all the basic shit.”

I like the basic shit in my department. I’ll keep to that, thank you very much. A thought comes to mind and I shift my rifle, frowning. “What’s Devin do, anyway? He works with engineers, doesn’t he?”

“Ye,” she gushes, completely distracted. “I showed you the one he sent flexing his biceps, right? He does that complicated business with drones…I think. We don’t talk about it much.”

Understandable given the circumstances. All I know about him is he’s originally from Sweden and he’s on the same wavelength as Rey about a lot of things. I jokingly add, “Yeah, tell him what we do and you might never hear from him again.”

We both giggle, aware of how true it is. Sighing, she drops to the ground and sets aside her gun, plain ignoring any orders to remain vigilant on our guard. It’s fine; I’m out here to cover and I do what she does a lot of the time anyway. No one’s out but our team. There’s no reason to travel this far.

“Yo, Edin,” she says after a long exhale, eyes shutting. “This is so nice. I missed this. Missed working with you.”

I know where she’s going with this, she’s been wanting to talk about it since it happened. I already told her as much as I could about Colombia but I’m still uncomfortable discussing our first move from each other.

“I…” Pausing, she looks down at her boots, takes another breath. “I should’ve tried to go with. I didn’t think it was going to be that bad, when you left.”

My head’s already shaking, dismissing her guilt. She had nothing to do with it. In the distance the birds are disappearing, presumably fed up with the heat and seeking somewhere more moderate. “Don’t worry about it. It was…an experience.”

“It changed you,” she remarks, and when I look down to her I see she’s fidgeting with her laces. I do have to admit she’s right.

“Yeah, but I’m alive,” I surmise, shoulders shrugging. “So are you. That’s all that matters, right?”

“You ever think about what would’ve happened if we’d stayed home?” she asks, veering into something I also don’t want to talk about, but at least it’s not about Colombia. I shrug again, one hip jutting. The wind picks up and I twist, doing a quick check of our surroundings.

“Of course,” I mumble. It’s not something I think about now, but it used to be one of those things I’d daydream over for weeks. “I’d probably own the shop now. Probably…probably die in it, too.” It’s meant as a joke but Rey doesn’t laugh. I try again. “What about you?”

She’s quiet a moment, letting the soft shush of insects on the wind fill the lull. Then she clears her throat.

“I don’t know. I guess I would’ve finished my residency, gotten my license, joined the hospital. You know, marry Marcel, have a couple kids with him by now.”

Marcel. I grin at the name. She’d dedicated several years of university to the guy, a physician within the residency she was supposed to end up in. He probably would’ve asked her to marry him had she waited long enough, but it never happened and then the draft occurred, and here we are.

“Is that what you wanted?” I ask, something about her words making me think that’s not the case. Is this what’s been bugging her? Is she homesick?

“I don’t know,” she says again, softer this time. “I don’t know, Edin. I mean…here we are in the middle of fucking nowhere doing who knows what to these people, but there’s nothing left back home, either.What’s worse? Getting to travel, seeing all sorts of things, meeting people you…never thought you’d meet? Or waiting in ignorance? Just sitting there, knowing you’re probably going to die soon, but at least you’re living a good life?”

She’s too philosophical for me sometimes. I know I do it, too, but it’s usually in my own head. To be honest I don’t think either option is better than the other. Each one has it’s own pitfalls. Still…I know which one I’d pick.

When I don’t answer Rey lays back on the ground, arms raising over her head and stretching. “This feels like home. You know, without the beach.”

“Or the people,” I add with a smirk, easily imagining our favorite spot on the north side of home. “God bless nice booties and tight shorts.”

We both crack up. People watching was always our favorite thing back home.

“Fuck, Edin” she says, propping up on one elbow and wiping at the corner of one eye. “I’m so glad you’re here. If I go anywhere else you’re coming with—I don’t care what they want.”

I don’t think that’s possible but I nod anyway, indulging her. Why not? She makes this place bearable. Well, Maks does too but in an entirely different way. Rey’s like family— _is_ my family, the only person left who truly knows me.

“Please do,” I tell her. On my wrist my link buzzes, indicating it’s time to move locations. I crunch through the grass to her, chin jutting to our left at a clump of extremely dry trees. “Come on; new spot. See? I told you this would be good for you.”

Rey grudgingly gets up, lazily following me toward the trees. “How much longer do we have out here?”

“It’s only been an hour.”

“Ugh…”

I ignore her whining, forge ahead on the sloping hills with a grin. “So what would you _really_ do if you and Devin ever met again?”

She launches into an eager explanation, forgetting all about how much longer we have.


	35. XXXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fooling around during work hours, nothing could go wrong with that. Oh you thought they just did it in Maks' bedroom? Nope. Someone needs to reprimand him, or give him more things to do. He has too much time on his hands.

Saturday, July 1st, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

Everything smells like smoke, even inside the facility. Huge swaths of fire have burned across the region surrounding us but we’re powerless to stop it, hunkering inside and only making trips out when necessary. By all accounts that means it’s mostly normal for the majority of us, minus the smell.

It’s impossible to get away from and it reminds me of things I don’t want to think about. Summer’s barely begun, leading me to believe it’s going to be a long season.

I keep myself occupied as much as possible. In my free hours I keep taking more shifts downstairs, not because I don’t like Rey but because I want to be as far away from the smoke as I can. It’s hard to justify staying down there though, requests for reports not coming in like they used to. Nobody outwardly tells us what’s going on but the reports I see and the gossip I hear from Rey indicates we may have lost Venezuela, again. We hadn’t even begun the campaign to renegotiate the rest of the continent. Still, it’s not such a blow like before. At least we’ve managed to sweep several key regions under our influence.

I try not to think about it too much. When even observations become scarce I resort to handing out meals to prisoners, certain it doesn’t matter if they recognize me any longer. Patrols in the lower levels are incredibly boring but I take those, too. Prisoners banging on their doors is preferable to being upstairs.

A team of us are serving lunch, one guy doling out trays through each cell door while I slowly roll the dining cart down our current hall and another girl readies trays for deliverance. All three of us have worked together for several months in various roles so we’re comfortable with one another. The boy I think came from Sao Paolo but I’ve never bothered asking. Questions never have good answers anymore.

We’re finishing up this section when Basman comes through, asks if he can borrow me to pull some old reports. My face remains neutral and I hand cart duty over to the other girl, give Basman a ‘yes, sir’ and follow him. We head for the stairs, both of us quiet until we’re out of the cell wards.

He at least has a legitimate request which is better than usual. We end up in reporting looking for investigations from a year ago, long before I came here. Both our heads are bent over one of the older filing cabinets, my fingers expertly sorting through the mess. He on the other hand spends the majority of his time making lewd faces at me. He clearly doesn’t have enough duties if this is what he has time for.

It’s not just him. The other comms in the facility are in a lull, waiting for more instructions on what to do besides our regular routines. This fact makes me feel a little better: otherwise, I’d think he makes for a very poor sergeant. Our leaders should definitely not be distracted like he is.

Then again, I enjoy his distraction so I would never say anything anyway.

“You look so hot right now,” he hisses under his breath, leaning way too close to me over the cabinet. It makes me blush but I’m use to it by now. This is not the first time he’s used reporting to tease me. “Where’s your sup, baby?”

“Shut up,” I hiss back, trying not to giggle. My fingers pull a thick stack of papers and I slide them out, check the date. “Is this the one you need?”

“Mm, all I need is your sweet ass,” he continues, relentless. I roll my eyes but smile anyway, wishing I was back on schedule all of a sudden and upstairs so we could sneak to his room. Thankfully he somewhat takes the report seriously, plucks it from my hands and studies the front page. It must be what he wants because he folds and shoves it in the back pocket of his pants. He scoots a touch closer, pretends to look over the cabinet’s contents with me.

“I’ve got a couple free minutes to spare,” he mentions, voice low and sultry. It’s music to my ears coming from him. “How about we…find someplace quiet, and I fuck that pretty face of yours?”

“What do I get out of it?” I counter, more than happy to play along. My elbow brushes his as I sort through several more investigations, just to look busy. He snorts in contempt.

“Oh, baby, I didn’t forget about you. Don’t worry, I’ll fuck your pussy, too. I know how you get without it.”

I look up at him, melt a little at his suggestive grin. He enjoys this way too much.

“Your room?” I whisper, sure that’ll take too long.

His head shakes slightly, watching me, gauging my reaction. “My office.”

My heart stutters. Yes, sure, he does have an office down here. I’ve been in it once or twice with other privates but fucking in there, in the middle of the day, sounds a bit reckless. I bite my lip, tentative over the idea.

“You sure?”

His head bobs. “Why not? Nothing’s scheduled for a couple hours. We could…do all sorts of things, relieve some tension, that sort of shit.”

I have to be the voice of reason, have to set him straight. He’s bored and horny and thinks he’s above the rules. He probably is, but I’m not. “Maks, let’s just go upstairs.”

“Mm, nah,” he disagrees, hip nudging mine. “You always take too long, you wanna eat and talk to people.”

He’s right on both accounts and I laugh slightly, look to the other cabinets like I’m searching for other things. “Not my fault. Rey’s good at finding me.”

He grunts, pretends he didn’t hear that last part, but we both know that’s what he means. I can’t say no to him but I’d die before refusing her. Had she been more adamant about me not seeing him I would’ve…

Well, I would’ve hid it better.

“Come on,” he urges, voice quiet, pausing in what he’s doing to stare at me until I eventually do. He’s become terrible the past month or so, can’t keep it in his pants. I can’t either but again, I’m not supervising anyone. “Please?”

He begs for sex and I beg during it. We make a good pair in that sense. I pretend to think about it. Even though it makes me nervous he hasn’t fucked me over yet.

The second I give a curt nod he moves from the cabinet, pulls out the report and shakes it. To any camera it looks like he’s pissed about something. I stay where I am, my stomach fluttering. Perhaps I should’ve been an actor if I’d had the chance. The things we do sometimes require a lot of work to look convincing and so far we’ve pulled it off. He comes back to the cabinet with one hand on his hip, poses angrily for a several seconds and then beckons me to follow him. My chin lowers and I do just that.

Two minutes later he ushers me inside his office, the floor mostly dead at this hour. Once he slides the door shut he turns and leans on the frame, grins deviantly at me.

“See? Not hard, baby.”

My eyes roll again. I swagger to the desk he never uses and hop up, primly cross my legs and offer a small grin. I know what he wants to do. He’s mentioned it once or twice, insisted it’d be really hot, but if he wants it he’ll have to work for it.

He stalks the two or three meters to the desk, spreads my thighs and leans into me, wasting no time in placing a hard kiss on my mouth. It deepens and he pushes forward, nudging me until I lie back and let him splay both hands on either side of me. His tongue wars with mine, breath hot and intense. The noises rumbling up his throat mirror my soft whines, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m gonna fuck you until I feel that sweet pussy clenching around my cock,” he murmurs, abandoning my mouth to trace his tongue up my jaw. I moan, turn my head to give him better access. “I want your pretty mouth swallowing me when I come. You’re so fucking sexy on your knees, baby.”

He couldn’t be any more overwhelming, pressing over me and whispering exactly what he wants from me. My moan gets a little louder, reaching to unbutton my pants and get this party started. He helps, rolling me over on the desk and smoothly working both my pants and panties over my ass. It’s given an overdue groping, coercing me to stretch my spine and grab onto the surface’s edge, hips rising to better present myself. Cursing at the sight he finally pulls out his cock, already hard, which is no surprise.

His fingers spread my lower lips, gently feeling around first and ensuring I’m wet. I am, of course, and he buries himself without wasting more time, taking me from behind. I let out a pleased sigh, grinning coyly when he does much the same. His cock is tight within me, and when he begins pumping it rubs right along the sweetest spots. Lowering, he wraps his arms around my torso and starts searching for my breasts, earning coos from me when he pinches a hard nipple. I arch against him, try to get him deeper. I’m not sure if it’s working but his sweet groan over my ear indicates I’m doing something right.

He pounds into me, picking up his pace and murmuring more filth the harder he hits. It’s a good thing there’s a desk beneath us because I need the purchase, toes curling in my boots and dangling uselessly centimeters from the floor.

“Oh my God,” I moan, forehead pressed to the desk. I can feel him hitting that perfect spot, my insides coiling with heat. “Maks, don’t stop.”

“Tell me how much you want it, baby,” he counters, doubling down, thrusts turning rabid. His grip on me becomes painful, squeezing me hard to keep me in place. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I need it,” I pant as I turn my head, cheek smushed to the surface. “Fuck, I need it. I think about your—fuck—your cock, all the time.”

His breath becomes heavy on my neck. “Mm, I bet you do, baby. That why you let me fuck you in here? Where anybody can see?”

_He’s_ the one who couldn’t wait, not me, but I nod fervently anyway, shuddering when he slams into me, breath ragged. He’s treading dangerous ground, knows I won’t be into it if he gets me thinking someone actually could see us. I went rigid once in a closet upstairs, and no amount of kisses and groping could get me comfortable after that. This, however, is different. It’s his office. It should be safe. God I need to stop thinking.

“Maks,” I beg, sounding positively whiney. It sets him off, teeth grazing my neck in a soft bite. He picks up his rhythm, pulls up and moves his grip to my hips to better push into me. I don’t know how it made a difference but it did and I dizzily glance back, rewarded with his lusty gaze, his jaw loose as he watches my body react beneath him.

“Baby,” he mouths, fingers digging into my flesh. I can feel the heat rising, so close to breaking. “Come for me. I want to feel it.”

My eyes shut and I whimper, his cock relentlessly hitting the perfect spot. My hips buck with his, intensifying the sensation.

“I love watching you fall apart,” he continues, voice hushed. One thumb massages my lower back, encouraging my movement. “You’re so fucking cute, gushing all over me, making such a mess. Look at you, you're such a good girl. Come on, come for me.”

His grip tightens just like my insides. That, combined with his words and eager thrusts, gives me all the reason I need and I do exactly as he asks. I break against him, walls clamping down on his shaft and trying to keep him there. I know I’m crying out soft exclamations but I can’t hear them, my ears ringing with pleasure. I know he’s pleased though, aware of it because he keeps plunging into me, never stopping even as I become loose and relaxed on his desk, blissfully compliant to his body.

His needs, of course, are suddenly amplified, cock urgently pounding into me. I take it, lost in my own haze and enjoying the oxytocin flooding through me.

He lasts several more seconds behind me before pulling out. In that moment I’m dragged off the desk, sliding right down to the floor. Half delirious I smack on my knees and open my mouth, his cock shoved inside in a heartbeat. His hands work through my hair, ruining my ponytail and pulling me close, gasping heavily while pushing on me. I open my throat and obediently hold still but I can feel something buzzing near me. It’s semi distracting yet we both ignore it, Maks holding me against his belly until he’s finished and me making the soft noises he likes.

His link is going off, that’s what it is, I can feel it vibrating on my skull. Still, we both wait a blessed minute until we come down from our respective highs. He’s better than me at pretending it doesn’t exist, dropping to his haunches once he softens and giving me a deep kiss. His fingertips find my throat, stroking it as he pants into me.

“Good girl,” he praises, rubbing his forehead on mine, eyes half shut. “God, you’re so good at this. I fucking love it.”

Much as I love the things coming out of his mouth I try regathering my thoughts, aware it’s going to be one delicate journey to the washroom. My hands find his, gingerly pull them down but that only gives him reason to stroke over bare flesh.

I’m laughing softly when I push away from him, landing on my hip and giggling more. He follows on his knees, carefully bringing me up and continuing his assault. I know we should stop but it’s hard when it’s so enjoyable. He’s over me again, elbows keeping me in place, tongue exploring mine…link still going off. God, it’s annoying.

“Maks,” I pant between kisses, arching to press back on him. This feels too good.

“Shh,” he breathes back, nuzzling me. “Just a little more.”

“There could be—mm, an emergency.”

He doesn’t particularly care, ignoring the comment completely. I give up, letting him drive me against the cool ground. Eventually the buzzing does get to him and he curses, pushes off me and sits back, studying the band. His near drunk expression turns serious and he mumbles he’ll head up in a second to it, whatever that means.

He’s up on his feet almost immediately after that, quickly zipping himself up and pacing, looking for something. I give myself a second to let my legs recuperate, then slowly wobble to a stand and shimmy up my pants. It’s so not a pleasant feeling but the sex was definitely worth it.

When he sees me tucking in my shirt he pauses, runs a fist over his lips. “Edin…”

I glance his way, still smiling. It’s really hard not to. “Ye?”

“Mm…” He looks down, rethinking what he wants to say. “I’ll…find you later. You should head upstairs.”

I blink, slowing down. “My shift’s not over.”

“Go upstairs,” he repeats, staring at me until I nod, tentatively moving for the door. The way he speaks makes me nervous.

“Coming with?”

His gaze finds his desk, busying himself with reorganizing several stacks we just skewed. “Ye. I’ll be up soon—don’t worry about it.”

There’s no sense in hanging around. He never tells me work related things anyway and I’ve learned not to ask. I round back to him and offer a quick kiss on the cheek, then jaunt to the door with a shy wave. Popping out into the hall I put on the most composed, angry look I can muster. I’m supposed to be flustered over getting in trouble.

Thankfully no one’s around but I keep up the facade regardless, just in case.


	36. XXXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory world building updates, uh, looks like they're not doing as good as they thought they were.

Sunday, July 2nd, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

Breakfast is delayed this morning, an impromptu meeting called over the entire facility. I woke early to exercise with Rey so we’re both up, both a bit confused as we shuffle into the large rec hall with the rest of our coworkers. Since our last meeting we’ve grown significantly by about two hundred more recruits, making the fit a bit tighter this time but we have enough room. The facility’s comms watch us enter, Singh doing his usual head count from atop a chair. We’re really not the most professional of places sometimes.

Ever since yesterday I had a feeling there was something going on. Maks never sought me out last night and I basically spent my afternoon catching up on any extra training or other things I’d been putting off. It wasn’t just me, either, many recruits wandering around uselessly, including Rey. We caught up on a lot of magazines.

We hang out in the back, our preferred spot for large meetings, gossiping with one another over some of the techs in the med bay. I’d tell her about some of the new recruits downstairs but my gossip is different than hers.

Once we’re mostly accounted for Singh motions us to quiet down. He appears serious, his face haggard. All the comms look like that, honestly. I wonder if Maks got any sleep last night, shoving that thought down upon realizing how dumb it is. There’s no reason to worry about him. He doesn’t want it.

“I want to thank you all for arriving on such short notice,” Singh finally says, hands clasped behind his back. “And, of course, I always have to express my gratitude for your constant effort and leadership. Bhutan’s an exemplary base clear across the globe and your dedication has kept us going despite severe odds. Which is why I want to speak with you this morning.”

My heart sinks. Who did we lose now? This is when they tell us we’re being disbanded and sent to a new front where we’re needed, isn’t it? My thoughts spiral, Bogota coming back in an instant. I don’t want to do that again, can’t handle it.

“In the coming days you’re going to see some news on the feeds,” he continues, sighing and looking to the other comms and then to the ground. “You’re not going to like that news but I can verify it’s correct. Shanghai, our lead, our greatest hold, and where our decisions and negotiations originate. They’ve….realigned themselves. Negotiations took place the past few weeks and they’ve frozen support as of the first of the month. We have several teams negotiating our own terms to see what can be salvaged because at this moment…we have no current orders. Our leads have shifted to Lagos; they’ll have more information soon as they can.”

“I don’t want to put anyone in a panic so I want you to know our facility will remain in limbo until our superiors come back with further answers and direction. There’s no reason to believe our facility will be removed given our current status but…that is another thing I want to talk about—I know, it’s a lot to take in at once but bear with me. Please.”

He at least understands this is highly upsetting. I don’t particularly understand. How can…how can an ally, our most powerful ally, just freeze and back out on us? That’s not fair. Looking to Rey I see she’s just as confused, her head down, body rigid. I link arms with her, jolting her out of her thoughts. She gives me a frantic look before turning her chin back toward the floor. Around us people murmur the same sentiments I’m feeling. Singh forges on, obviously wanting to get this over with.

“Guys, we’ve had reports come in from several fronts. Teams have picked up info about our facility during operations, nothing official but identification of a base dedicated to POW’s. As far as we know our location hasn’t been compromised but I want to make it clear one more time, just in case the first hundred times wasn’t enough. We _do not_ speak about where we are, we _don’t_ talk about our duties. Friends, family, acquaintances….no one outside these walls should be aware we’re even here. Speaking out is grounds for termination and imprisonment. If you’ve got loose lips you need to cut that shit out— _now_ , especially given our current situation. Whether we become a target or not depends entirely on you. Please don’t make that decision for the rest of us.”

I look to Rey again, tuning Singh out. His warnings have no bearing on us and besides, I’m more concerned with the part where Shanghai might sell us out. _That_ should be incredibly more alarming than anything else and when I see her pale face I know she’s thinking the same thing as me. If that’s the case, what’s stopping them from coming out here and surrounding Bhutan? What’s truly stopping us from being captured? Do they really think they can negotiate their way out of this, or do we roll over, hand back their people and pretend we didn’t just wage wage across the globe for over half a decade?

It’s a lot to be thinking about, something I really shouldn’t be doing. I hardly ever know what’s going on so of course I’m paranoid, sure the worst is going to happen.

Singh goes on about statistics and cautionary measures but by then I’m not listening whatsoever. Rey was right all along. Everything about joining was wrong, we should’ve known. We’re losing. You can’t…you can’t come back from that kind of withdrawal.

When we’re dismissed we both woodenly exit, silent. The majority of people around us act the same. We head to Rey’s dorm, her roommates usually gone by this hour and they thankfully are today as well. Rey sinks down on her bed while I hop up on her desk, legs kicking irritably.

“We’re probably gonna be out of here before the end of the summer,” I predict, studying my nails. “I mean, I know we didn’t want to be here but yo…it’s one thing to choose to leave, another to get booted.” When she doesn’t answer I glance up at her. “Right?”

Eyelids fluttering she shrugs, expression neutral. “Right. At least we have an escape plan.”

We do? I hadn’t paid attention to that part. “That’s good at least…I think. Fuck, still sucks. It’d be better if we were on the field or something instead of out here. I’m sure they’d like to burn us to the ground once they, you know, figure out what we’re doing.”

Again this earns no response but I’m not sure it needs one. I study my knees, a sense of unease spreading from my stomach. “They probably already know we’re here.”

“Edin, I…” Rey stops herself, jaw shutting tight. She looks really upset. I feel the same way—I don’t want to die out here just because we don’t have any current orders. Finally she just lays back and shuts her eyes.

“Fuck.”


	37. XXXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor decisions are made by all. TW-a bit of blood, attempted suicide.

Wednesday, July 5th, 2056, Camp Bhutan.

Each day where nothing happens is agony. Leadership is supposedly still working on ‘negotiations’ but from what I’d heard and seen it’s not working. The stronghold’s being torn apart, troops already moving in on any resistant pockets and taking control. It’s not a good climate to make any deals. I try not to think about it but it’s difficult when our future hinges upon whatever’s decided in the east.

Maks tells me not to worry but at this point that’s to simply say something than nothing. We’re sitting ducks, waiting for orders, any at all.

I leave his room before he’s ready to go in the morning, wishing to get out and down into the prison as soon as possible. Smoke still lingers upstairs, the widespread fires outside having diminished but smoke from other burns clinging to the air. We haven’t had an interrogation in weeks, which would be a relief if it didn’t mean we were on standby.

Despite that there’s always something to do down there. I head to the cafeteria and grab some food, wolfing it down pretty quickly. It’s kind of nice, most people still in their dorms at the moment, giving me time to myself. There’s usually little of that but lately Rey’s been busy and Maks has all kinds of meetings with the other comms waiting on any news. The only time he’s free anymore is basically when he sleeps. It obviously distracts him so I keep out of his way unless he seeks me. He didn’t even want to fuck last night, bringing me specifically to his room to sleep. It wasn’t bad, just…different.

Rey on the other hand has been out of reach and out of touch, keeping herself occupied and alone with whatever she does. It’s surprising then when I see her enter the cafeteria, eyes darting to and fro until she spots me. I study her as she hurries toward me—she looks sick.

“You okay?” I ask once she sits down opposite me, body language indicating she’s anxious. Rey nods sharply, hands folding on the table and then moving apart, fingertips drumming on the surface.

“Yeah,” she tells me in a low voice, head ducking. She looks at my tray and blanches. “Um…what’re you up to today?”

That’s not a weird question at all coming from her. I lower my fork and raise a brow. This isn’t normal behavior. She doesn’t talk like that. “Gonna head downstairs soon, maybe work on scanning reports or something. Why? Want to join me?”

I don’t really know if that’s kosher but it can’t hurt to ask. Rey shakes her head anyway, hands leaving the table and shoving between her shivering legs. “Nah, that’s okay. I just…good. Good. Glad to know you’ll be busy.”

Now I’m frowning, head ducking like we’re making a conspiracy. “Yo, you okay? You don’t look good.”

“I’m fine,” she shoots back, already swiveling off the bench. “I was just wondering what your plans were, no biggie. Catch you later.”

She leaves me as abruptly as she showed up. I think about trotting after but finish my breakfast, figuring she’s nervous. We all are. Nobody knows what’s going on any longer. Going back to the counters for extra coffee I eventually meander out of there, the cafeteria quickly filling. I head for the stairs, ready to begin another day of trying to keep myself busy.

It’s like the universe knew I was carrying an open container because I jump like hell when a sharp siren fills the staircase and coffee spills all over. Cursing and trying to cover my ears I drop the cup and hurriedly yank off my uniform jacket, throwing it on the floor and mopping up what I can—I’m not going to get bitched at for something so minor. The siren’s still going off and my wrist is buzzing like mad, my link glowing red.

What the fuck does that even mean? I can’t think clearly, not with so much stimulation going on at once and pick up my things, shoving back out into the hall. The med bay is the nearest point of interest so I head there.

Dozens of coworkers are standing around, all their links glowing the same color as mine. It’s not any better up here, my ears pounding from the horrible noise filling the halls. Finally one of the med comms plunges into the hall, hollering above the sirens,telling us to follow combat protocol.

My stomach sinks. I haven’t done that in months, not since leaving Bogota. We’re directed to the armory and in that time frame I start looking around, thinking I’ll spot Rey or at least someone I’m kind of familiar with in the corridors. Everyone’s face seems strange when lights are blinking and we’re all in a panic. Despite the buzzing I hear someone say we’re under attack but that barely fazes me. How does anyone know this?

Our links say so, that’s how, something I didn’t bother looking at until I’m in line waiting to be handed a rifle and protective jacket. The leasers don’t question why I’m not fully wearing my fatigues, probably because it doesn’t matter right now and also because we’re apparently under attack.

It doesn’t feel like it. I put on what’s needed and follow others toward the rec hall where we’re supposed to, I guess, meet? I don’t know, I’m doing what everyone else is doing. My mind’s blank, unable to comprehend the situation and I still haven’t found Rey. She’s usually really good at finding me, which makes me nervous. She was all kinds of unsettled earlier and I imagine this isn’t helping. Overriding the warning on my link I send a message to her but it goes unanswered.

Singh’s on his chair with a loudspeaker in hand, already shouting orders through it by the time I enter the hall. Per his instruction several convoys have been spotted coming up from the south and they are not ours. With the fires in the area we’re relatively easy to spot out here so it’s assumed they intend to come here. Perhaps worse than that, and which I saltily think he’s ignoring the bigger problem here, is several drones have been identified in the nearby vicinity. They’re also not ours so it’s safe to say we’re the most likely target.

Obe steps up with him on another chair and suddenly they’re both shouting out exactly what’s going to go down. We’ll hold our position for as long as we can, privates in several departments ordered to head to the exit for perimeter duty. I await mine, listening to them give out directions like this is going to go smoothly. It might, if there aren’t too many soldiers outside, but that’s not likely. They have to know that.

They must given I have orders to go down with Basman’s team and begin destroying evidence. At first I think they mean our reports and things of that nature but Singh says to conserve bullets, leading me to believe…our inmate population is about to get a lot smaller.

Above all else however, Singh states to be on standby should the need to evacuate arise. He’ll give the order, our links will receive it, and if that’s the case we must head down to Obe’s office on the first floor of the prison. His office will lead to a hangar which we will evacuate from. I vaguely remember them speaking about this hangar when I first came here, sure that’s where our supplies come from as well.

That’s it? I’m hurrying out of the hall with others but my mind’s spinning, telling me this is a really stupid plan. We should just leave—now, while we have the chance. Who cares if the enemy finds our shit? They’ll hack through it anyway one day. This is pointless. Mostly I just don’t want to know what Singh meant by destroying evidence. I really, really don’t want to know.

Basman claps a hand over my shoulder before I make it back to the stairs, pulls me to the side of frantic traffic. He stares down at me with newfound intensity.

“You seen Rey?” he shouts over the wailing. Baffled he hasn’t, I shake my head. He says something under his breath and looks behind him, then back to me. “Find her. We’ll take care of downstairs—grab and get her to security.”

He’s placing a lot of emphasis on the part where she’s safe and I’m sure if I don’t find her he might lose it. I nod in confirmation, steeling myself. She’s got to be around somewhere and looking for her is much better than going downstairs. Seeing we’re on the same page he squeezes my shoulder and deserts me, hurrying downstairs with others. I wade through the hall and back to the areas I know Rey usually frequents, calling her on my link once more.

It goes through but again, no answer. God, I should’ve followed her earlier. I work my way through the corridors, checking in the med bay, in the cafeteria, dodging comms when they bark at me for not being where I’m supposed to be. Rey’s nowhere in the main areas. I race back to the dorms and look for her there, can’t find her. Fuck, where is she? I play over our conversation from earlier, red flags flying too late in my head.

The ground beneath my feet quivers seconds after I squeak into the showers, calling for Rey. I pause, dread creeping up my spine. Everything else shakes a beat later, a metallic roar thundering over the sirens. It happens again when I peel out, stumbling down the hall for the dorms again. Anyone I encounter is readying their weapons, constantly checking their links.

I’m doing the same but Rey’s not answering me. Goddamnit, I hate her right now. She’d better already be downstairs in security, ready to go. I message Maks to see if he’s heard anything but get nothing from him either—he’s busy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The building shakes again, more thunder coming from overhead. This isn’t good.

“Rey!” Where haven’t I checked? I’ve looked everywhere I can think of, done a thorough search of all the main areas and dorms. Unless she’s on the move I don’t know where she could be.

But…I round back to the dorms and make the turn to staff housing, ignoring anyone’s odd looks at me as I key in the lock code. Would she be in Maks’ room? I don’t know, I doubt it but I haven’t checked. I make a beeline for his door, slam it open and burst into it’s dark corners, someplace I’ve just hardly come from.

Rey looks up at me from the floor, tears streaming down her face, blood splattered over her left shoulder and drooling down her front. Her right hand clutches over what I assume is the source of all that…all that blood.

“I can’t do it,” she chokes out, sobbing harder.

“What the fuck.” Is that me? Am I really saying that? Everything outside is forgotten and I drop to my knees in front of her. Time seems to stop as I look her over, dizziness taking over. Not again. Not fucking again. “Rey…what the fuck?”

“He’s gonna kill me,” she states, words wobbling while she hyperventilates. “He’s gonna—he’s gonna fucking kill me. I can’t—I’d rather do it but I can’t.”

“Who?” I gasp, reaching for her shoulder and trying to survey what’s actually wrong. “No. No, no, no. Rey, this isn’t—what the fuck are you doing? Nobody’s gonna kill you!”

“He will,” she insists, sounding like my paranoid thoughts at their worst. To her right is the rifle she apparently did this with but I can’t think about that right now, my focus solely on her. I grab her hand and move it from her shoulder, ignore her pathetic whining as I survey the gash seeping out of her jacket. We have to get her out of it so I start wrestling it off, her cries getting louder.

“Who?” I demand, trying to keep her occupied. “Rey, what’s going on? Why would you—what’s happening?”

“Devin,” she spits, face blotchy and red and her crying seemingly endless. “I told him. I told him where we were. He’s Red.”

I stop what I’m doing a second to glance up at her pale face, blood loss obvious. “What?”

“I fucked up,” she forces out, body shuddering. “Edin, I fucked up. I don’t know what else to do.”

“What do you mean, Devin’s Red?” I ask, heart thudding in it’s cage. The Reds are the lead conglomerate in Europe. Unlike La Raz they work mainly behind the scenes, don’t surface until they know they’ll have control over a region. We’ve never dealt with them. They’re not our jurisdiction. My grip tightens when she takes too long to answer. “Rey…”

“He told me,” she hurriedly confesses as if she suddenly realizes what she’s done, too. “He—fuck, Edin, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I didn’t want to do this and I thought—he said I could help him. He said they’d end this sooner.”

Now I scoot back, all sorts of emotions pulling through me. The facility rumbles again, making it difficult to think straight. She’s known this guy for over a year, I think. They met last year. When…when did he tell her this?

“You didn’t tell anyone this?” I demand, my voice filled with venom, not even sounding familiar. She shakes her head so I have to growl. “Why?”

Okay, now I’m barking, blood boiling. All this pacifist bullshit and she suddenly reveals she’s giving information to the enemy? None of this makes sense.

Wiping at her face with her good hand she can’t indicate why. She keeps crying, melting down over this revelation. “I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know. He’s gonna kill me Edin, I know it. He said he was coming for me, said he was gonna keep me safe but—”

“You believed him?” I shriek, working off my protective jacket and settling it over her. “What are you, ten?!”

“He’s here for me,” she insists, voice tiny underneath the alarms. “He is. He’ll kill me, I know, but I can’t—I can’t do this. I can’t.”

That’s enough of this nonsense. I’m not doing this again. Sitting up on my knees I grab and start hauling her to her feet. She naturally resists, clearly in pain but that’s not my problem. My problem is getting her downstairs to security so we can leave.

“I can’t go,” she yells in my ear, making me cringe. “I can’t—if I’m not here he knows who I am and they’ll…Maks will find out. Everyone’s gonna know. I can’t do this.”

Still pulling her to her feet I’m thinking back through the hundreds of conversations I’ve had with her, recalling too many times where I thought it was weird she wanted to know something but chalked it up to her wanting to be knowledgeable. _She_ was the one giving me global news all the time, after all. She’s right: she’s betrayed everyone. There’s no fixing that, not even with her brother. Maks might deny it to try and protect her; he’s good at that, but he can’t get rid of evidence and there’s plenty of that. Rey’s been sending messages to Devin for ages.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I tell her between gritted teeth, forcing her toward the door. I try not to think about her blood oozing over me. “We’re gonna leave and we’ll figure it out later, okay?”

“You don’t get it,” she moans, falling apart on my shoulder and trying to stay where we are. “It doesn’t matter. If I stay I’m dead, if I go I’m still dead. I can’t do this, Edin. Let me stay here.”

“You’re gonna be fine!” I shout at her, more to make myself believe it than her. I push her out into the hall anyway, shuffling as fast as I can with her. “Just—shut up, alright? None of this happened. None of it.”

“Edin—”

“ _None of it_ ,” I seethe, mind shutting down. I need to get her downstairs to security, need to get her to Maks. He’ll take care of her. “We’re gonna be fine.”

She doesn’t believe it but that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m pissed with her, pissed with everything about this, but I’d never leave her here. She’s bleeding too heavily for me to do anything about it and I’m not going to help her with this decision. It’s not something she gets to decide as far as I’m concerned.

It dawns on me as we cross into regular dorms that she went easy on me for a reason when she found out about my involvement with Maks. She was withholding something much bigger from me. There isn’t a word to express how I feel about her secrecy at the moment.

Few stragglers are left in the upper halls, Singh having sent out the call to evacuate while I was busy looking for Rey. Anyone left stares openly at me and Rey, especially her. She’s not the only one with wounds though, the facility’s ceiling beginning to cave in, others injured from the fallout and more simply after returning from outside. How we haven’t been overrun yet is beyond me.

I reach out to Maks through my link, beg him to meet us in the stairs because I don’t know what else to do. Rey’s fighting me every step of the way and calling Maks makes her even more anxious. I snap at her to stop, remind her everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.

We will be fine. I keep repeating this to myself, to her, anything to get us to the next level.

This time my call doesn’t go ignored and he’s up the stairs in a flash, shoving past others and screeching to a halt the second he sees Rey. His gaze first angrily flits to me before going back to her, eyes going wide.

“What…”

It’s like my mind switches to the role I use with him, the one where I can hide everything and make a completely different reality where everything’s okay. I quickly hand her over, Rey sobbing hysterically the instant she’s in his arms. Maks picks her up and tries figuring out what’s wrong but he’s frantic, not thinking right. I make sure my voice is loud enough so Rey knows her new reality. She has to play along. That’s the only way we’re going to make it through this.

“Accidental fire,” I tell him, looking as angry as possible. It’s easy because I am right now. “She was upstairs near the exit, I don’t know exactly what happened but some fucker fired off a round and she got caught.”

That makes no sense but he’s currently accepting it, a completely different person as he cradles his sister and tells her everything’s going to be fine. I hope he can make her believe it because I certainly haven’t.

“We’re gonna go downstairs,” he explains to her, already on the move. “Gonna get you to—who’s your comm again? We’ll get you to her. Hang tight, okay?”

I can barely hear him. Following him down the stairs I’m beginning to see we’re one of the last stragglers. With all the noise going on my ears begin burning, Rey’s words nagging at me. She’s right about Devin, right about what will happen once we’re gone. Everyone’s going to find out it was her who gave us away. I’m afraid for her. Maks can’t hide her from that.

But I know he’d try if he knew. If he knew he’d double down on his lies, manipulate it to frame her as completely innocent. That’s what he does. I’m not an idiot, I’ve figured them out. He’s the reason Rey came here, he’s the reason she gets easy work, doesn’t have to deal with anything too difficult. He’s protected her as much as he could and it wouldn’t be any different in this situation.

“Maks—” I start to say but Rey’s ahead of me. She knows what I want to do, her shame bursting forth.

“Edin! Don’t! Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Maks echoes, still headed downstairs. The stairwell is empty by now. I’m beginning to quiver, wondering if it’s just us left.

“Is it just us?” I ask, twisting to look back. It is. Unless there are recruits outside…I think we’re the last ones.

“Ye,” he distractedly says, forgetting what we were talking about. “Fucking wait for you two.”

He hoists Rey up better and rounds down to the first floor of the prison. I jump ahead and open the door, following them to security once we’re through. Rey keeps looking at me, silently pleading through her tears to keep quiet because she’s too scared. It frustrates me to no end. I want her safe. I don’t want to see this happen to her because she’s right. They will find out. Singh will eventually search through our records or the enemy will call her out—they’d never waste an opportunity like that.

In Obe’s office there’s a modest sized hatch behind her desk in the corner. It’s currently closed but Maks is headed straight for it, indicating that’s where we need to go. He hands Rey over to punch in the key code and pull it open. While he’s doing that I squeeze Rey in my arms, murmur again everything’s going be fine.

“Don’t talk about it,” I whisper, ignoring her shaking head. “No one will know, you’ll be okay.”

“Edin…”

“It’s okay,” I hush, my heart beginning to thud at a sickening rate. “It’s fine. You’re all I got, you know that? So you’re gonna be okay, we’ll make sure of it.”

“Stop,” she cries, shaking her head. “I can’t do this—I can’t.”

“Let’s go!” Maks calls from the hatch, standing over it. There’s a ladder down, I notice, and when I glance at Rey I know she’s not going to make it on her own. I step toward the hole anyway, jutting my chin at him.

“You go first,” I tell him, all sorts of thoughts coming together in my head at once. Rey’s going to be fine. She’s going to be perfectly alright, Maks will make sure of it.

He nods along like that’s the best idea and starts down. I take Rey to the edge, her good hand clutching at me like a koala bear.

“I can’t do this,” she keeps exclaiming, panic too great to see the bigger picture. I’ve barely seen this side of her before, don’t know what else to do besides plop her down and prod her onto the ladder. Beyond her I can see Maks’ disappearing head and a brightly lit hall beneath them. It’s not too far from the hatch to the ground. Even if she were to slid he can catch her.

“You’re going to be fine,” I insist again, pushing at her until her feet reach one of the rungs. Keeping a hold on her I make her go to the next one, uttering all sorts of positive bullshit at her. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine, everything’s alright. This never happened, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But—!”

“You didn’t do anything!” I shout, probably a little harsher than I need to. I can see Maks looking up at us, more than a little confused. Rey’s tears come faster. I use her inability to cope to my advantage and move her down another rung, her head disappearing just below the hatch’s edge. “Just—fucking go, okay? Everything’s…everything’s fine.”

Her hand slips somewhere in the process and she falls backward, tumbling down the hole in a flash. As predicted Maks is there to catch her. He pulls her correctly in his arms, telling her much the same thing as me. I watch them both for a moment, take them in and try to memorize their terrified faces.

They’re all I have. I can’t let anything happen to them. I hate that I’m crying now, too, cursing Rey for all of this.

“Make sure you shut it tight,” Maks calls up to me, voice shaking. I’ve never heard him like this and it makes my stomach flip. Rubbing at my eyes I look down to him again, see him raise a brow as I reach over my head for the hatch’s door. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Come on!”

Push everything down. Don’t think about anything, stop being afraid. Rey’s right, someone needs to be here. I know enough about her, I can fake enough. Devin might be able to tell the difference but I’m willing to bet Devin’s not the one coming here. Reds never show up until they know, for sure, they have control. I can give Maks enough time to get Rey somewhere she can get medical attention.

“Stop wasting time!” he hollers, looking about ready to drop Rey. I stare back down the hole, harden my expression. Bitchiness is all I have left, the easiest way to keep Rey out of this.

“I fucked up,” I call, working to pull the hatch down. “I told them where we were.”

The last thing I see is his face, his jaw loose, unable to comprehend. I already know what’s going through his head—the things I’ve seen, the reports I’ve made, everything he’s put me through.

“Edin!” Rey’s shriek is cut off once I secure the hatch. It’s not that I want to be here. It’s not that I want to act like a hero or pretend I’m capable of making sure our facility’s secrets stay secure. I’m not that brave. It’s just…

There’s no way, no fucking way I’m letting her face this.


	38. XXXVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little introspection, a little fear, a little steeling herself for meeting this guy.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I can hear movement, know they’re upstairs and ransacking all sorts of shit. I’m just sitting here in our security suite several doors down from Obe’s office, looking at the three million monitors around me and observing the assault. Some cameras have been shot but for the most part they provide a concise picture—the enemy is inside and trashing everything, looking for us. I guess they haven’t found the stairs yet. The lock likely won’t be an issue. They’ll infiltrate in due time.

I’ve studied all the controls on the desk in front of me, wondered if I should let the prisoners out while I’m at it but there’s no point. Per a look at the cameras on the lower floors Basman’s team already took care of a good majority of them. It makes me sick, reminds me I should’ve never made it here in the first place, and that I let my opportunity to leave slip out of my grasp.

I should’ve gone. I’m not good at this shit. But…someone needs to be here. Someone needs to be Rey. I’ll be Rey. It’s better than having her exposed to this. Yes, I know I’m making decisions for her but I don’t care. This is different.

When I deserted Obe’s office I covered the hatch with a work crate, the only thing I could find to be honest, joking to myself this feels like a terrible movie plot but maybe it’ll work. If it does, great. If not…well, I did do a pretty good job tying myself up. Thanks, Maks, for that bullshit. Really came in handy in the long run.

The point is to look like I was left behind, I think. I made it up last minute but it’s better than nothing. The enemy is flooding in from the hole they blasted in our rec hall so I don’t really have another feasible plan any longer. All I know…is when I’m found, I’m going to scream for Devin. He may not be here but it’s the name that’s important. If they ask who I am I’ll tell them I’m Rey. All that matters is I stall them. Maks needs enough time to put distance between here and the hangar, wherever it is. It has to be somewhere close. Everyone says there was a river nearby, maybe it’s entrance is near that.

I want them safe but I keep shoving their faces out of my mind. It makes me cry if I think about them. I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea. Just…when I saw Rey like that, all kinds of fucked up and hysterical past the point of return, I knew she wouldn’t survive this. I don’t _want_ her to. Me, on the other hand, there’s nothing left. There’s nothing to go back to, no family and no idea what to do afterwards. All I want…all I want is for her to be okay. I never want her hurting this way again.

The hallway outside security erupts in an explosion—they’ve figured out how to get through the stairs. I hunker down in the chair I’ve tied myself to, nerves becoming calm. Maybe I really am crazy. Maybe my time in Bogota gave me the idiocy to think I could do another round. I don’t know what it is but I’m ready for whatever comes next. Hellishly loud voices filter over the droning alarms, the ground beneath me quivering as troops in uniforms I never thought I’d see again rush down the way. I can see them on the cameras, count way too many to believe we could’ve actually taken them on.

Taking a deep breath I put on my most panicked face. It’s time to act, act like I’ve never acted before, and pray to God it works.

“Devin?” I start off scared and a little flighty. In my bonds I thrash a bit, lurching for the door. “Devin! Devin, help me!”

This calm is almost ethereal, time slowing down as soldiers bash open the room’s door, infrared masks menacing and wrong. They’re shouting foreign things at me, waving rifles in my direction. I stare back with wide eyed surprise, my tears enhancing the vision I’m trying to portray. My chest fills and I start hyperventilating, screaming for Devin.

He’s just a name, just a guy Rey met on the internet. He doesn’t matter to me. But in this moment, he’s all I have.

And thankfully, he’s not the one who shows up.


	39. XXXIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin meets the one who made this entire story possible. TW-a teeny bit of capture and torture. Honestly ready for Edin to have a nice time at some point.

Tuesday, July 11th, 2056, Europe.

A lot of time is spent under a hood in the dark. The floor rumbles beneath me in various capacities for what feels like days. It probably is that long. There were several moments of bright clarification, times when I was given some food and water and could relieve myself, but those are few and far between. For the most part I’ve been tied up, simply waiting until the journey’s over.

Luckily, I was the last person left in Bhutan. The team that found me recognized what I was shrieking but that’s about it. Once found they promptly bashed me in the head with a rifle and the next waking moment I was…in a jeep, I think, the smell of smoke choking. I was in the dark by then, bound and gagged and wedged between large, living bodies. They kept me company for the longest time, and then at some point I was removed and tossed into something else that also moved.

When these moves finally stop I’m pulled out of the last pile, blindly dragged by people holding me by the underarms. I’m tired, everything aches, and I don’t know what’s going on. Being in the dark reminds me of Colombia. At least there I could see who was handling me.

A lot of time has passed, that’s all I really know as I’m marched upstairs. The clang of doors echo around me, foreign murmurings abound. Very few have spoken to me, the language barrier obvious. I’ve only spoken back in bits of English, Portuguese when it’s clear they want answers but aren’t Devin. Devin, I quickly realize, may not be his real name. Duh. It took me way too long to determine that but at least it’s a name they recognize. It gives me an in, and I think it’s kept me alive.

More stairs trip me up. I’m beyond counting steps, obediently following whoever holds me for as long as it takes. Eventually they stop, spin around and have me sit on something stiff while I’m secured. I don’t resist, keep my jaw clenched shut and wait for further instruction.

Hunger makes me dizzy, mingling with the sickness over having been brought wherever we are. My hood is yanked off, blinding momentarily before getting used to a brightly lit, stark room. Whipping back I follow two fuzzy soldier leaving my peripheral through a door. When I twist back I recognize a darkened window ahead. This is…way too familiar.

It’s quiet for now. I take advantage of it, calming myself much as I can. I’m not here for nothing. If it’s anything like Bhutan the first interrogation won’t be that bad. All I’ve got to do is keep my mouth shut for a couple hours. They’ll leave me alone, regroup later. That’s okay. Take it one minute at a time and stick to my story.

You know, the one I’ve constantly reworked and can’t keep straight.

I sit for much longer than anticipated, nerves rising and falling when it becomes clear this isn’t exactly like Bhutan. My thoughts spiral out of control in between bouts of nearly dozing off, body going numb the longer I sit. It would be nice to know the time, or what day it is. It’d be nice to know anything, honestly. It’s hot, of that I’m sure. I’m sweating just sitting here.

Finally the door opens behind me and my eyes flit to the dark window’s reflection. I spy someone familiar—Devin. My heart sinks, all my preparations worthless. What the fuck was I thinking? This won’t work.

“Hey, love,” he speaks, sounding about as nonchalant as one can be. I pull my chin down, praying for more time. “Long time no see. They didn’t hurt you on the way here, did they?”

Biting back a whine I shake my head. Fuck, Rey and I don’t look that similar, why did I think this was going to work? Behind me he tuts sympathetically and steps forward.

“I’m sorry, Rey. I didn’t know how else to bring you back elsewise, and—”

He pauses upon reaching my shoulder. I stare hard at the floor but I know the wheels are turning in his head. Cool fingers grasp my chin, tilt my head until my face is easily visible. I bite the bullet and look at him with watering eyes, making up my plan on the fly. Devin looks exactly as he did in Rey’s pictures. He’s attractive with a muscular build. I see what she saw in him, how she could become infatuated. His face, however, is currently twisted in a nasty sneer.

“Who are you?” he demands, tone harsh. I start shaking, tears coming easily. Make him think this is terrifying enough. Make him believe I stepped into a game I didn’t realize was being played.

“I’m—sorry, Devin,” I whimper, sounding pathetic. “I didn’t—”

“Who told you that name?” he barks, fully aware I’m not who he’s been speaking to. He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, shoving my chair over with a bang and stalking back to the door. It flies open, his voice thundering down the hall, demanding whoever brought me here to explain this.

Shoulder pressed on the ground I hold my breath, mind thinking quickly. I can hear him outside, shouting irately at whoever answered his call. This goes on for a bit before he returns, stomping to my chair and righting it in a quick yank. The force makes my head spin harder. Standing in front of me he crosses his arms, fuming.

“What’s your name?”

My lids flutter innocently, portraying frenzied fear. “Rey.”

That earns a heavy backhanded slap across the face, my neck cracking from the pressure. I gasp, somehow surprised.

“What’s your name?” he asks again, to which I give the same answer, crying harder. This time he shoves the chair back, sends me toppling backward with a shriek, his voice still louder. “Last fucking time, what’s your name?”

I double down. He’s not going to get what he wants. “Reyna Basman.”

He clearly doesn’t believe it and he steps over me, leering over my sniveling face. “Then who the fuck did I meet, hm? What the fuck is this?”

“I was scared,” I gasp before I can stop myself, quivering under him. “I had a friend meet you. I didn’t think…didn’t think you’d like me.”

God, I feel like I’m digging my own grave. Why couldn’t I find a better answer?

He crouches over me, sending my nerves over the edge and I cry hard as I can, try to portray exactly how I think Rey might do this. “Please! Please. Please don’t hurt me. You said you’d keep me safe.”

Still hovering he grabs my hair and turns me until I’m forced to look at him. My gaze locks with his, willing him to doubt his instincts. It seems to work, his expression softening slightly.

“You’re Rey,” he confirms, staring at me hard regardless when I nod again. “You made a friend meet me because you were scared.”

“She’s pretty,” I shakily explain, using the tried and true method of low self confidence. Guys eat that shit up. “I thought you’d like her better. I didn’t think we’d actually…meet again.”

Does that sound pathetic enough? I hope so. My eyes squeeze shut and I cringe, working to sell it. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry Devin, I am. I didn’t think any of this was gonna work but you pulled me out. Holy fuck, you did it.”

He utters a soft snort of contempt. I don’t know if he’s bought my story or not but I’m not giving up. His grip loosens in my hair, slowly rising to his feet.

“You did it,” he murmurs, stepping back, “not me. How’s liberation feel?”

How would Rey answer that? Sarcastically, I want to believe. She never liked showing people when she was scared. If she could mask it she would. Her terrified face flashes in my mind and I push it down harder. My chapped lower lip pouts.

“A bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

He laughs in false amusement. “You fucking liar. You’d better hope to God you can answer my questions. Last chance, love—tell me who you are. This doesn’t have to end bad. You can help me just as much as she can.”

He plays the same game Basman does. I know a bluff when I hear it, know he’s not sure about it. The key to a good mind fuck, I’ve learned, is to turn the other person on themselves.

“You said you were in Brisbane,” I carefully accuse, using my limited knowledge. “Is that where we are?”

Going quiet a moment, his shoulders lower. “No. Ever been to Sofia?”

I don’t even know where that is, my interest in geography limited to whatever was necessary and the way he says it makes it slip through my ringing ears.

“What?”

“Course you don’t know,” he tuts, smirking. “Rey did. Guess she didn’t tell you.”

And then he proceeds to kick at the chair as hard as he can. I can lie all I want but I’m not fooling him. Still, it’s not like I can stop now. I can handle this. This is bearable.

He keeps kicking, bashing me several times in the process. It’s very much on purpose. When he does calm down I’m a mess on the floor, reeling from the assault, bones throbbing. He rounds to the back of my chair and flips it up, sending me forward a final time. Keeping behind me he grips both shoulders, squeezing hard. His touch reminds me of Basman’s, and I have this horrifying thought that he is the equivalent of my comm. Mouth dipping to my ear, his breath hits damp skin and makes me cringe, struggling to move away.

“Alright, love,” he tells me, tone neutral once more. “Hope you’re comfortable. We’re gonna figure out who you are first. I think…think you’re gonna have a lot more to tell me than Rey ever could by the time we’re done.”


	40. XL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night out on the town in Moscow. Car sex.

Wednesday, March 19th, 2059, Moscow.

There’s a knock on Maks’ door before he enters, half hesitant about doing so until recalling it’s his in the first place. I look up from his bed, having claimed it several days ago and using it as my reading nook. In between planning and guardedly telling his cohorts what I know it’s become my favorite, and only, place of solace.

His cohorts aren’t too horrible, I’ve learned. The woman, Ngo, came from a faction in the east, as did their teammate Wulf, and the man who called me a bitch, Christian, is from the north African front. They all resent me but, if I’m telling them the truth, then I’ve provided them with a lot of intel on the Red faction.

The Red’s call Sofia their home, just a hop and a skip away from one of our former bases in Istanbul. All three of Maks’ teammates have issues with this faction hence their involvement in what I’ve concluded is basically mass assassination. Just because the war’s over doesn’t mean old grudges die with it.

I will be their bait. Given what I know of the situation I’m fine with this. If I’m going back to Sofia I’m making sure some people are hurt. They promised safety to me, to those I’d loved, promised this in exchange for information. If Rey was murdered by the Reds, and according to Wulf it’s very likely given the intel we do have, then I must return to punish their evils.

The plan then is to return to Sofia, infiltrate the Red’s downtown office and take out several key people, more if necessary. Christian’s identified who still resides in their walls and Wulf has tracked leads from Rey’s murder along with several others to the selected Reds who should be responsible. They’ve spent some time working on this, much longer than I can comprehend. Maks, Ngo and Wulf are then in charge of carrying out these hits while Christian acts as their eyes. I will be the key inside, my mission to draw attention.

Maks insists I’ll be fine but he doesn’t seem to mean it. It doesn’t bother me either way. I want justice for Rey, that’s it.

Closing the door behind him Maks carefully leans back on the frame, quiet. He’s spent all day speaking with his cohorts, all four of them going over every single aspect of their plan and inventing failsafes for any situation. They’re clearly in contact with more people just like them judging from the intel and tech they have, though that’s never addressed. I mostly sat next to him and pretended I was following along.

In reality I don’t have the attention span for this kind of shit. As long as I know what I’m supposed to do I don’t care about their plan. My own plan is to find who killed Rey and beat Maks to the punch.

“Our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon,” he tells me, struggling to find something to break the ice. It’s almost cute coming from him. “Have…any questions?”

I shake my head, flip a page and keep reading. “Nope.”

“You know the plan?” he adds, brow lowering. It’s like he knows I zoned out. Biting my lip I offer a slight nod. He doesn’t believe it. “Alright, give me the rundown.”

“I’m going to walk right in and offer myself up,” I sorely explain with a disgusted glance, shutting my book. “You’ll all be doing something else, listening in and tracking where I go.”

He takes a deep breath and exhales heavily. I’m not necessarily wrong and he knows it. His gaze drifts from my reading material to the ceiling. “Fine. Listen…”

He doesn’t finish, prompting me to shift and turn toward him. “Hm?”

Pained to have to say anything he jams both hands in jean pockets. “I’m gonna head out for the night. Since you’ve never been here before I was…look, you want to come with?”

Not particularly but I’m not staying here with the others, either. My gaze lowers to the sheets. “What do you have in mind?”

“Get acquainted with a bar,” he answers without skipping a beat. “Anywhere I can loosen up.”

I could help him do that here but his stiffness indicates he wants out.

“The others don’t mind?” I wonder, sure they would. Last time I was outside his room they were busy packing, frazzled about trying to fit sensitive gear into bags they’re paying a contact in the airport to get onto our plane. He shrugs at my question.

“They’re already gone for the night. It’s how we prep for these things.”

Oh. That’s not how I would but then again, I’m not in the business of murdering war criminals. I lean back on my palms, thinking about it. He’d leave me here alone?

“You’d trust me on my own?”

He shrugs again. “No, but…you plan on running off?” My silence is his answer so he continues. “You know the codes to our shit?” Again I’m quiet and he scoffs. “Can’t imagine you doing much harm when you didn’t even pay attention to half our discussions.”

He’s right, unfortunately. I look to the bags we brought, chewing on my lower lip. I suppose I could pretend this is a date, make it bearable enough. It wouldn’t hurt, not when he claims this is the safest city in the world for people like us.

How, exactly, it’s safe I haven’t been told but I’m not going to question it.

We take the elevator down ten minutes later, him in jeans and an athletic jacket and me in one of the blouses he bought in Hong Kong along with my own jeans, a compromise. He doesn’t find it cute we’re both wearing similar boots so I don’t say anything about that.

We dive past the lobby and down into a garage. I follow him through a lot filled with all kinds of vehicles, the majority luxury sedans. It’s not missed that he and his companions happen to have a lot of money. Where they’re getting it is anyone’s guess and again, I don’t question it. I don’t want to know.

He leads me to a black Mercedes, it’s make fitting right in with other expensive models around it. Taking a quick look over at him as I get in I can tell he’s proud of it. I wonder if it’s really his.

Pulling out he winds through the garage until we emerge on the street, Moscow’s cold roads lit up in neon. We could be listening to something, anything at all, but I’m absorbed in what’s going on outside while he merges into traffic, needlessly whipping through lanes. I try hard not to smile—he’s showing off.

“This your first car?” I ask when he screeches around a corner, flashing my teeth at him. The glow on his face tells me he doesn’t care; he really enjoys it and will not let any amount of teasing damper this.

He cruises for several blocks, pulling at a red light near an expansive park to our right. It’s trees glitter with lights, reminding me of Christmas despite that being months ago. Out here it’s specifically for the effect, and it’s beautiful. One could never tell this was likely in shambles several years ago.

“Thought you weren’t religious,” he remarks out of nowhere, bringing my attention back inside the car. I glance over to him, shrugging. He’s seen the book I brought with for days, never said anything about it then.

“I’m open to it,” I consciously inform him, turning back to my window. “I think. I don’t know; I’m still thinking about it.”

“So you read the bible like it’s a novel,” he finishes, smirking and shaking his head. “Not how you get into heaven, baby.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I retort, crossing my legs. “Why do you care?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that, still shaking his head. I don’t press further, not wishing to spoil the mood. Besides, it’s none of his business.

We drive clear across town in an awkward silence until he pulls into another garage, reaching into his pocket once we’re parked. Producing cash seemingly out of nowhere he counts out several bills and stretches them toward me. I look at them, then up at him, unsure.

“For…whatever you want,” he murmurs, not used to this either. “I’m not babysitting you.”

Oh. We’re not… I’ve been his shadow this whole time. The sudden amount of freedom he’s giving me makes me anxious, sure there’s some kind of strings attached to it, or it’s surely a trap. He’s waiting to see if I’ll run.

Run where? I shake paranoid thoughts from my head and take the money, stuffing it in my pockets alongside my forged identification and phone.

When we get out I follow him through the garage several paces behind, apprehension palpable. Alone as I felt back home I never went to bars or karaoke halls to fill the void. The crowded conditions always scared me. For whatever reason I thought I could simply trail him and it’d…well, I made myself think it’d be like a date. I shouldn’t have done that, don’t even know where we’re headed. He didn’t find me to take me out.

Out on the street he turns and moves another block down, making a sharp duck into a relatively well-lit establishment. I’m shivering again by the time we’re enveloped in the cloying warmth and smell of alcohol. It’s…not how I imagined being in Moscow but it’ll do.

Should’ve stayed back at the apartment. At least there it was quiet.

Maks walks in like he knows the place (he must), heading directly for the bar and nodding to a few guys already situated up there. They raucously shout hello to him, well on their way to obliteration for the night. I hang back a second, get used to my surroundings, take a deep breath and find my own table in the crowded place.

It’s sort of easier done than said, some dude playing the guitar in a corner so at least there’s something to keep occupied with. Nobody scrutinizes my ID, just delivers a bottle of wine because that’s the only thing I’m sure I’ll enjoy. Over at the bar Maks is busy working through several shots of vodka. He’s highly interested in losing himself, making me wonder how he plans on getting back to the apartment.

I try not to look his way too much. For one it’s pathetic and two, it’s irritating. He acts completely normal, like nothing’s wrong. Then again, this seems to be his home. He’s not the one who was just uprooted, and why would he be openly hostile here? He’s a very good actor, always has been.

I wish he’d never brought me here. It makes me think of things I can’t have or enjoy any longer.

The guy on the guitar is horrible but I have nothing better to do and Maks has deserted the bar to play pool in back with his buddies, keeping me right where I am. I think about leaving but where is there to go? I don’t know where I am and it’s still cold outside. Instead I keep sipping wine and hoping this musician gets better.

He does, sort of, covering songs I’m mostly familiar with except they’re all in Russian. Everything’s in Russian. If I close my eyes I can easily imagine being elsewhere, the words phonetically similar to others I’ve been around.

“Hey.”

Someone’s at my table. Blinking, I take note of a fairly skinny guy who’s hopped up on the stool opposite me. He looks alright, though I judge with caution anyway. I don’t know how they socialize here.

“Hey,” I nod back after a beat, deciding he’s probably fine. He looks skinnier than me. I could probably crush him. His hazy smile grows, apparently liking my voice, asks me something in Russian to which I cringe and apologetically point at my mouth.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…speak that.”

“Oh!” He laughs easily, elbows on the table and leaning forward. I notice jewelry on his fingers. “Sorry. Don’t meet people like you beyond the airport. What are you doing way out here?”

Apparently we’re where locals go. I smile briefly and take another drink, glance at Maks’ oblivious backside. “A…friend brought me here.”

He turns, gaze following mine, and then swivels back with a smug look. “Not a very good friend leaving you on your own.”

I can’t help snickering. He’s not wrong. “I’m Tavia.”

“Tavia,” he repeats my stolen name, lets it roll off his tongue while extending a hand. For being a dog he’s fairly polite about it so I shake, learn he goes by Aleksandr and hails from Crimea, settling here with friends. I tell him I’m new to the area but don’t specify much else. He’s eager to talk, leaning closer and closer over the table the longer we sit together. It’s enjoyable, makes me feel like everything’s normal.

He stays for a long time, friends dropping by and introducing themselves, all surprised I’m here. I impress them with the languages I do know and eventually divulge I’m from the Americas which is a huge deal to them. They’re all incredibly flattering and soon Aleksandr and several of his friends have more alcohol on the table, the place becoming comfortably crowded while the night wears on. I lose track of my nerves, letting myself revel in the moment. Maks did say this is how everyone else prepares: I’m just fitting in.

That’s what I tell myself when he convinces me to head upstairs with him and his friends under the promise of a good time—truly, not with trickery. There’s an arcade up there and I’m easily enticed to participate when they keep plying me with shots, goading me on to win at every first person shooter available. I try to be careful, taking my time with what’s available. Moscow, I quickly decide, is alright.

It gets too hot inside so our party shuffles outside on a balcony, partially freezing but not enough to be bothered by it. Aleksandr has, of course, finally made his move holding me from behind, arms draped over my shoulders keeping me somewhat warm. Several of the others occupy a table and smoke, the rest of us standing near the rail, chatting and watching traffic go by. I feel like a member of their circle. It’s all fake, obviously, but it’s still nice belonging to something. My wannabe paramour takes his time, hold tightening very slowly, nose brushing my hair.

“You’re very pretty, Tavia,” he murmurs as his friends discuss something else, sports I think. I know I’m blushing, flattered more than anything. “Are you sure you came here with your friend?”

Giggling like the idiot I am I shake my head, acutely watching his friends banter. I know I’m leading him on but don’t care; I’m fantasizing this could be my life.

“He’s not a friend,” I tell him, glancing to the streets. “Not really.”

“He wouldn’t mind…?” He leaves the question open. Still smiling I twist around to face him. He’s all sorts of giddy and intent at once.

“It’s complicated.”

“He’s not here right now,” Aleksandr points out, which is very true. My eyes crinkle in delight, lower lip jutting when his hands find my rump. He’s so tiny compared to anyone I’ve ever had an interest in and I know it’s unfair but I keep comparing him to Maks. Maks could definitely kill him. I don’t want that even if Maks isn’t interested.

His lips brush over my cheek, earning a shudder. I take a tiny step back, distancing myself and grabbing his wrists.

“You’re very lovely,” I inform him, gaze roving over his nice clothes. He oozes drunk desire at the moment. “But you don’t want to get involved with me.”

“Nobody needs to know,” he counters, this conversation familiar. I always find it funny now when guys tell me this, like they’re aware I don’t want to be found out. Or maybe they don’t want to associate with me. It was more rampant back in Hong Kong. Regardless, I look down to his belt and then his hands. I have not missed the part where he’s wearing a wedding band, noticed it very easily when we first met but ignored it. Now I turn it around on him.

“You have a wife?” He pauses and smiles as if he’s been caught, but doesn’t move away. He’s done this before. I’m too drunk to tell what he’s thinking so I keep smiling, teasing him. “It’s complicated, isn’t it?”

He slowly lets go, slyly eyeing me. “Can I pretend it’s not?”

Half of me yearns to say that’s fine but the rest…

When I don’t answer he digs into a pocket, produces a small, rattling tin. “Can I change your mind? I can give you an amazing night, Tavia.”

Opening it up he lets me admire a dozen little candy colored tablets. My smile freezes, recognizing them. Gaze flitting back up to his hopeful face I truly contemplate it. This could make for a very, _very_ wild night but…the only person I’d trust myself with is gone, and I’m too old for this. I need to leave him alone before I lose myself entirely.

Closing it for him I offer a soft kiss on his cheek, delighted when he shivers. My fingertips trace up his chest and comb through his short hair. He returns it, mouth moving to the corner of my lips. I break away, back up with a shy look.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, panting. My cheeks are red, I’m sure of it. “I need to use the lady’s room.”

He’s drunk so he believes it. I stumble back inside, clattering through the arcade and hurrying downstairs. It’s a miracle I don’t trip, trying not to grin like an idiot as I look around the main area for Maks. He’s nowhere and I can’t remember what his name’s supposed to be. I weave through the first floor regardless, dizzily searching for his broad frame. Fuck, he shouldn’t have brought me. I mean I’d love this on my own but with him it’s different. With him there are rules.

Unable to locate him I duck into the lady’s washroom, whipping out my phone to find several missed calls. I don’t bother checking, messaging him once I’m finished with my business. He shoots back a reply immediately, asking where I am. I tell him, taking a deep breath before dipping back onto the crowded floor. The guitarist’s been replaced with house music, it’s presence thudding heavily through every centimeter of the place, further distracting me.

Maks practically pins me to the adjacent wall the second I emerge, catching me off guard. I laugh relentlessly, his appearance too much. He doesn’t find it nearly as funny, body pressing on me.

“Where’ve you been?” he demands against my ear, breath heavy. He reeks of his drink of choice. I keep giggling, don’t care if anyone’s watching.

“I made friends.”

“I saw,” he murmurs, tone harsh. His mouth is on my ear, making sure I hear him. “You have a good time?”

The way he bitterly speaks pushes me out of my bubbly mood. My back arches on the wall and I look up at his stern jaw, nodding carefully. “Ye. I think they like me.”

“Really,” he mocks, one hand journeying down my side. I nod again, heart beating hard when he grabs a wrist. “Did you enjoy the attention?”

“Mhmm.”

“Did they touch you?” he presses, nudging my head until I turn, giving him access to my neck, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Ye, one of them.”

“I’ll kill him,” he softly threatens in a hiss, mouth dripping down my skin. Despite his words he’s not taking any action. “Did you like it, baby?”

Drunk me insists he’s playing our game so I shiver, nod one more time. “Yeah. But…it wasn’t the same.”

“Same as what?” he wants to know, lips finding my jaw. I suck in my lower lip, too shy to say it all the sudden. I’ve never played with him in the wild, never had the opportunity. He catches my hesitation, working harder against me. I whine, a steady heat creeping up my insides, and earn a soft laugh from him. His teeth drag down toward my shoulder, groaning. “Baby…did you want me? Is that it?”

I reach up and grab his other wrist, inhaling brusquely. “You were busy.”

A rumble vibrates up his chest. Wet lips sucking on the crook of my neck intensify. I want to scream.

“I thought you’d like the free time,” he raggedly explains, way too intent in his actions. “You don’t act like this around me.”

He’s right, I don’t, and for good reason. I shove that thought aside and push at him, remembering why I was looking for him.

“Take me home,” I plead, turning into him. “Please? Or just—outside.”

 _Now_ he finds me amusing. He stoops to hold me closer, overwhelming my every move. “Why? Aren’t you having fun? I saw you earlier, baby. I know you were.”

I was but I think I’m going to have a hanger-on soon. I giggle helplessly, try peeling myself out from under him. “Because. I want to…do things. With you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers, voice hoarse. He pulls me back in front of him, warning me not to try again as he looks down, eyes hooded with something dark. “Tell you what…make me believe you and I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”

“Maks—” I start but he cuts me off with his mouth, shushing me in between kisses.

“Not my name, baby.”

Fuck, I don’t remember it. I roll on him, trying to think clearly. “Please. I want to go somewhere where I can…mm, pull out your cock, stroke it, maybe take it in my mouth.”

The appendage in question twitches against my belly, interested. It’s not enough though, Maks tutting unsympathetically. I think harder.

“I want you to make my pussy wet,” I utter so only he can hear, pretending the world doesn’t exist beyond him. “I want you to come so hard I can feel it pulsing inside me.”

“You’re just saying that,” he breathes on me, enjoying it nonetheless. His grip tightens, thumbs running over soft skin.

“Let me go and I’ll suck your cock right here,” I negotiate, to which his lips curl on my skin in a perverted smile.

“No. No, they know me here.”

So he’d do it elsewhere? Interesting to know. My pickled brain is intrigued.

“What about outside?” I suggest, sure there’s an alley or something around. He shakes his head, eyes shutting and trying not to laugh.

“No. It’s cold, baby.”

Then what does he want? Tilting my chin I fix him with a frustrated look. “Yah, I just ditched a dude offering ecstasy to find you. I could’ve had a very fucked up night but all I could think about…was fucking you instead.”

He pauses, studies me a second in all seriousness. “You take any?” When I shake my head he sighs, lowering so his arms can constrict around my ass. In a whirl I’m lifted up against his hip, Maks moving through the bar as fast as he can for the exit. “Good. Let’s go.”

If he’s paid I’m not sure—I’m not questioning it, shrieking in delight when he pushes out onto the street, still carrying me like he’s just stolen me. It’s one hell of a moment, and when I hear shouts behind us I twist around, my new friends either concerned as they lean over the balcony or pissed. I wave regardless. My ass is slapped for that but I only laugh.

He puts me down when we reach the end of the block, looking back a good moment while he recovers. His breath fills the air in cold puffs. I stumble back and forth on my feet, gleefully watching him. It takes him a second to notice, chin jutting my way.

“What?” My tittering doesn’t help and he turns, hand on one hip. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You,” I gasp, wiping at my cheeks. “You just—”

“You’re drunk,” he accuses, glowering when I shout the same thing back, unable to take him seriously. He continues to scowl before my attitude rubs off, finally cracking a slight grin.

“You’re drunk,” he says again, this time more affectionately. A hand reaches for mine, drawing me to his chest. I fall into him with ease, enjoying his protective hold more than anything else. Cars go by on the street, their noise providing an obnoxiously loud background. I snuggle into the crook of his arm, unable to help myself.

“I hate you,” he softly remarks, exhaling heavily, keeping his hug tight. “That was my favorite place.”

“Find another one,” I mumble, feeling his heart thudding through his jacket. “Right now…right now you should take me home.”

“Could fuck in the car,” he loftily suggests, gently unfolding me. I let him, moving with him down the street once more for the garage. He has a point but I don’t agree or disagree, falling quiet on our short walk.

Out here in the cold I sober up enough to keep coherent, just enough to be embarrassed. Taking a hand he keeps me close. We don’t mention what happened again until we’re at the car. He spends an awful long time unlocking my door, glancing my way once he swings it open. I look from my seat to him and the suggestive hand he has on his belt, face beginning to glow. We make really great mistakes together.

I slide around him, down into my seat, let him pull himself out. He’s at eye level which is perfect. Checking behind him for anyone I gingerly grab his cock, experimentally licking the tip and looking up for his reaction. It’s exactly what I want, Maks groaning softly and pushing forward. His hands wrap around my head, lacing through my hair and holding me tight to him. Honestly I’ve never had this fantasy before, but as it unfurls I’m not going to stop it. I did tell him anything I could think of to get to this point. My tongue flattens and I take him deeper, his soft grunts my reward.

“God,” he breathes, eyes shut. “I…”

He never finishes, trailing off. I keep going, jaw beginning to ache but working my tongue around his length harder.

We’ve fucked a few times since leaving Hong Kong. Most of the time we’ve said nothing, just done it halfway through sleeping. For the most part it’s more out of habit than anything, and I’ve let him do it, initiated it once or twice. I can’t help it. Everything about him I missed, everything. I can’t really explain it; he brings out something hidden deep within me. Nobody else has ever really come close. And…if I’m being honest, I know I’m trying to make him think differently. I want his attention. I want the relationship only possible in a different universe. It doesn’t matter what’s feasible, I still want him.

He pulls away, hands sliding to me and stroking my cheeks once he pops down on his haunches. One hand claps my cheek several times, eyes searching my bothered face. He’s just as bothered, head clouded with thoughts he’s declined to share so far.

“I thought about killing you,” he murmurs, offering heavy kisses to compensate. “I fucking—fucking hate you, baby.”

I nod along, hyper aware how he feels, still accepting his mouth, letting his palms slide to my back and wind me toward him.

“You fucked everything up,” he continues, words ghosting over my tongue, getting me panting. “Everything. And now you’re here—fucking here—and I just wanna fuck you. This isn’t fair, baby.”

“Mhmm,” I moan, letting him play the game. His fingers dig into my blouse, breath growing heavier by the second. I don’t care what he’s talking about. He’s still here, still touching me, still letting me breathe. “Go ahead. Please.”

“Please?” he echoes, almost laughing.

“Please,” I whimper, sure of it. I know what I’m doing. I scoot to the edge of my seat, one thing on my mind, need getting the better of me. “Please, please, please.”

He starts kissing drunk tears, groaning darkly. His grip becomes an embrace, squeezing me tight, pulling me back out of the car with my legs hooked around his ass. This is a struggle to keep us both connected but he manages, swings around to the backseat and gets it open, throwing me in. The Mercedes shakes when he follows, slamming the door behind us.

There’s just barely enough room for me to scoot all the way over, quickly shucking off my boots and jeans. He helps, hunching over on his knees and eagerly watching me writhe in my bid to get everything necessary off. My shirt’s pulled up, bra yanked down, his fond curses bubbling out involuntarily.

“Fuck me,” I beg, spreading my thighs as far as I can. Why does he not have a bigger car? My arms throw back, fumbling to find things to grab. “Maks, please. I need you.”

I sound pathetic, a little crazy mixed with a neediness I can’t control. His gaze flits to my near pained face and back down to my body, pulling on hips until my ass touches his thighs. Using his elbows to keep me in place he spreads my labia, mumbling favorably under his breath.

Since we’re shut in the car I don’t hold back, crying when he dips, tongue burying in me. He licks up my slit, lathing over my clit, breath cool on hot flesh. He fucks me with his mouth, aggressively eating me out. I was prepared for his cock, not this, so I keep crying, keep keening, everything too intense at once. Clutching on the door my jaw loosens, moaning uncontrollably. This isn’t fair.

“You wanna fuck?” he asks, cheek rubbing over my thigh. “Huh?” He blows over my clit, and I can feel him smiling.

“Yes,” I whine, toes curling, head back. His teeth just barely ghost over my clit, tongue returning.

“You sure, baby?”

He’s bringing out my thirsty voice, one I haven’t used in years. I can’t help it. I’m drunk and in need and I know exactly what I can get from him if I work him right. “Yes! _Yes_. _Please_.”

He’s laughing, wallowing in my state. “You’re such a slut.”

My stomach drops in anticipation. Just hearing that drives me crazy, makes me want him more. He knows it does, attacking my slit again. Soon I’m bucking my hips, begging for him. His tongue works the tight entrance hidden through my folds, vibrating over a sweet spot and sending me over the edge. I gush for him, core spasming hard. He laps up my come, pleased groans mixing with my ecstatic whimpers.

There’s a lull as my ass drops to the seat. Maks looks over my spent body before lowering down on me. He has me taste myself, mouth covering mine, kiss deepening easily. He bares down, fitting right over me and gathering me in his hold. All my nerves buzz, body quivering.

“I want your cock,” I exclaim, one hand reaching to grab it. It grows in my hand, pulsing lazily. “I want it so fucking bad. Give it to me.”

“Shh,” he hushes, hips lifting until I guide him to me. “Shh, baby. I’ll fuck you, don’t worry— _oh_.”

Oh, yes. His cock sinks into me, both of us making the same noise. Turning into me his nose nuzzles mine. We relish the moment, and then he rolls against me. My legs wrap tight around him, fingers doing the same and digging into his jacket. I wish he was naked but it’s not slowing either of us down.

After several strokes he picks up his pace, pounding into me. I open my pelvis, pussy clenching around him. The tight quarters force him to be efficient, moves deliberate and he’s breathing on my neck soon enough, teeth bared. I turn my head, give him as much space as possible and let him bite down on my shoulder, sucking hard. Clinging to him I let him do as he wishes, lost in his overwhelming presence and need to be within me. He does not disappoint, thrusts harsh and raw and I’m screaming as softly as I can, which isn’t much.

His grinding forces my legs wide as they can go yet I’m still trying to bring him closer, desperate to get what I want. It’s close, I can feel it, and he’s tightening too, cock swelling and rubbing right over the most sensitive spots. My crying eggs him on, makes him push harder, suffocating me in his hold and giving me a blessed moment where I’m completely and utterly overwhelmed under his control. This is what I wanted, what I’ve craved.

He knows I’m close. Partially letting go he slides a hand between us, thumb furiously stroking over my clit. His chest rises and falls with mine, breath on my neck, humming his desire. I arch against him, a wave cresting right over me.

“Come for me, baby,” he rasps, tongue deliciously wet. His words are like magic, letting the wave crash and flood through me. I can’t not cry, a complete mess beneath him, muscles tightening around him even as he twitches, cock spurting erratically within me.

His heart pounds behind his chest, mirroring mine. Both our bodies are taut, stuck together until one of us comes down. It takes some time, the car quiet save for my drunk keening. When he can manage moving Maks pulls up over me, finding my undone face and peppering the flushed skin with lavish kisses. Nothing is untouched.

“Stop,” he whispers several times, nudging over tears. “You’re so fucking cute, crying for me. God, baby, I missed you. Don’t fucking do that again.”

In the moment that sounds perfectly reasonable and I agree to his demand, whispering I’ll be good. He bites at my earlobe, lost in his own world.

“Promise me, baby. Please. Don’t make me go through that again.”

He’s not thinking straight, divulging things he probably wouldn’t tell me under any other circumstances. I bask beneath him, agreeing to everything. I don’t care. I’d cut off my fucking arm if it meant I could have this again. I just…

He’s the only thing left from the past.

Several hours pass, neither of us volunteering to do much more than get comfortable. We’re mostly sober, extremely quiet now that there isn’t anything stopping our inhibitions. Something about his demeanor makes me believe he admitted things he never meant to voice. I pretend I never heard them, enjoying being cradled in his lap in the backseat. For the first time in forever I feel like I’m connected to someone, completely involved in this person, my own thoughts lightyears away.

He strokes my backside with one hand, the other tangled in my hair. I hold onto his jaw in much the same manner, head resting upon his shoulder and listening to the pulse in his veins. It makes me want to drift off but I can’t, needing to soak up every single second of this peace before it disappears forever. He will not be nearly as affectionate later on and I won’t be as willing to accept it. I will need to abandon his plan at some point, and he will not understand.

“I meant it,” he quietly informs me, lips ghosting over my crown.

“I know,” I reply just as quietly. I don’t care.

He takes a deep breath, legs shifting beneath me. “I could’ve…would’ve protected you.”

I know. But that wasn’t something I could beg of him. Already limp in his arms I don’t bother arguing.

“Do you know what a torch feels like?” His silence tells me he hasn’t. I sigh in relief, stroke his jaw. “Good.”

The noise he makes demonstrates he detests that answer and his hold tightens.

“Thought you’d be a martyr?”

He makes it sound like a bad thing. Shivering, I shake my head. I’ve thought about that too, but I was always a coward. Always doing what had to be done to survive. “No. I just….knew I could handle it.”

“But you didn’t,” he bitterly points out. I bite my tongue, refuse to lash out. My heart’s not in it anyway. He’s only prodding because he knows I’m relaxed.

He’s wrong, though. I made them believe me, just like he taught me to do.


	41. XLI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of interrogation, negotiation, and coercion.

Friday, July 14th, 2056, Sofia.

“You’re good at this,” a man informs me, swaggering a full circle around me. He sounds genuinely impressed through I’m sure that’s not good. He’s also very good at his job. I’ve had several days to figure this out.

“Let’s go over this again,” he nonchalantly explains, more than happy to do so. Picking up the belt he’d dropped earlier he carefully wraps it around his fist, making sure I’m watching. “I know you’re scared but _not_ talking gets you nowhere. Come on—just tell me your name, sweetheart. Easy as that. No more bullshit, no more being stuck up there…all sorts of benefits, really.”

My shoulders ache, arms tied up above my head, dangling from the ceiling. I keep my eyes on the belt, pretend I’m not interested.

“I know you want to,” he continues, posing in front of me. “You look scared out of your fucking mind right now. Or—if you don’t wanna say your name how about where you’re from? You know, to know one another. It feels proper rude spending all this time with you and I think…I think you know more about me than anything. That’s not fair, babe.”

It’s not but it’s given me several extra days, I think. He believes it kills me when he beats me with a belt. I don’t correct him, always aware I can take it. Dissociate, dissociate, dissociate. Do not break, do not talk. I can do this.

But you have to give a little or you’re useless. I give the only thing I’m willing to say.

“Reyna Basman,” I squeakily whimper between swollen, split lips, tears stinging as they fall. The point is to look scared witless, and I think it’s working. It’s easy to do when I truly feel it in my veins. He buys it, anyway. “Please. I don’t—don’t know what else to tell you.”

He stands in front of my, smiling sympathetically as if he understands my helplessness. Tutting, he steps forward, knuckles on his unbound hand brushing over my bruised jaw.

“Sweetheart,” he gently says, examining what he’s done. “I’d believe you, but we both know that’s a lie. How much this bitch pay you to be here?”

I just hope Rey’s alive. I cry harder, letting myself look a wreck. Quivering under his touch I pretend this is absolute torture. It is, but I tell myself it’s not. If I lie hard enough, this will be over before I know it.

“I’m Reyna,” I whine, wishing my hands weren’t bound so tight, the feeling drained out of them ages ago. I feel like a carcass hanging here on a giant hook, locked away in some cell I didn’t even have the privilege of seeing prior to entering. “Please! I’m telling the truth.”

I shriek appropriately when his bound fist cracks over my eye, the stark room blacking out a second. He’s holding out, too—he didn’t hit that hard before. I don’t blame him. It’s been a long time since we started these one on one sessions.

“You’re kind of a liar,” he explains over my bawling, grasping my face by the chin so he can watch. “Trusting you…is like trusting me. Just isn’t there, is it?” His fist meets my jaw again and I spin on the hook, feet dangling mere centimeters from the floor, mind reeling.

“Talk to me! You aren’t gonna like what happens next. I’m telling you exactly how this can end, exactly how you can be back in that little room we gave you. Pretty nice we even gave you one, ye?”

When I spin around to him he pauses me by holding a hip, looking over my convulsing frame. “Name, sweetheart. Or a location. All we need and we can make this real easy.”

Lies. It won’t end until they have more. I’m gasping, forcing tired eyes to see straight. I’ll tell him the same damn thing until he believes it.

“Reyna Basman. Fortaleza. Two hundred and ninth unit.”

He doesn’t care if he breaks skin any longer, belt splitting open raised flesh on my cheek and getting a real good scream out of me. We’re both very good actors, he the overbearing interrogator and me the terrified victim. If it didn’t hurt it’d almost be entertaining but it’s not, the endless questions exhausting and humiliating. The belt finds several more places between tattered clothes, whipping me wherever he sees fit. I do a good deal more screaming, focusing on the buzzing high that comes with each hit.

He likes focusing on one section at a time, I’ve noticed. Yesterday it was my legs, big hands bruising my calves, stretching my ankles just past their comfort limit for hours at a time while demanding stupid things I didn’t have answers to. Today it’s the upper body, a workout in his selection and speed. He’s been at it every day now, making me cry and my body sore every time.

“Look at me,” he tells me when I spin his way again. “I don’t like beating some pretty girl. And for what, a name? That’s a silly thing to hide, sweetheart. You’re hurting over nothing.”

Says him. I wait until I stop spinning to huff dramatically, head lolling to the side in order to wipe blood on my bicep.

“My name…is Reyna Basman.”

The door yanks open behind me, footsteps hammering in my ears. My interrogator offers a friendly grin and spins me around to spy Devin and a woman I’ve never seen before. I swallow blood, refusing to look at either one after the initial glance.

“Figure her out?” Devin wants to know. My interrogator grunts a negative to which Devin’s mouth forms a thin line. He and the woman stay where they are. “Shame. You tell her what’s at stake?”

He did, probably. I wasn’t paying attention earlier on, too frazzled to think straight.

Devin watches me, thoughtful. “Here’s the thing, love. You’re wasting our time and _your_ time. You wanna do it go right ahead but I wanna speed this up. Let’s see, Rey’s probably….say, somewhere in Toronto or Lagos by now, ye? Probably Toronto given we’ve burned any routes overseas. Sound about right?”

I don’t answer, my heart fluttering nervously. I have to think ahead, need to have an answer for everything he’s giving me.

“How…crazy would it be if we send out her—excuse me, _your_ —name?” he asks, head cocking. “Tell our contacts who I’ve been working with that she’s in their own nest? God, she might her get head lopped off, won’t she?”

They wouldn’t. Fuck, why didn’t I think of this?

“You like this Rey?” my interrogator wonders, a hand resting on the small of my back. “You think you can take the blame for her?”

“Sure would fuck her over if we released her name,” Devin continues, shrugging. “Or you could…tell us what you know. Her life, for yours.”

“You’re already here, sweetheart,” the interrogator reminds me, speaking softly. He does this in between our usual bouts of threats and aggression, too. “Take what you can before it gets ugly.”

I want to spit at him, demand who made him my plea bargain officer but I keep neutral, keep crying.

“You _are_ her friend, aren’t you?” Devin innocently questions, stepping closer, bringing a tablet with. “She told me about you. So, why don’t you verify it and we can get on with it? Aren’t you practically her sister? She’d do anything for you. Wouldn’t you want to do the same?”

Rey…why’d she tell him so much? I’m not sure if my tears are forced anymore. He’s got a picture pulled up along with one of her messages, and there we both are. There we both are…all of this was for nothing. My body twitches, tries fighting to get down. How could they? They…they knew all along? And they let me struggle like this?

“I like her, too,” Devin assures me, voice soothing. He’s watching my resolve rip away. “I don’t want to see her hurt. I mean, the only place I could’ve kept her safe was here, but since you fucked that up…it’s only a matter of time before her superiors figure it out. You could help her, love. Think about it. I know that’s why you’re here. You want to keep her safe, don’t you? You thought we’d do all kinds of bad things to her, didn’t you?”

He offers an unkind smile when I pale, feeling sick. “Guess she didn’t tell you about our relationship.”

She did, and he’s lying. She knew he’d kill her, without a doubt. People who love you don’t give you this kind of hardship. I think she knew the shit she’d stumbled upon earlier in the month, knew days before we were hit. She knew…knew this was all fake. He’s lying.

“You’re lying,” I mumble before I can stop myself, his soft laugh my answer. He has to be lying, I can’t believe him. But…how much of it is engrained in truth? I’d gladly trade everything I know to keep Rey safe but I have no guarantees it’ll even work.

He’s ahead of me, unfortunately, showing me the tablet again, forcing me to look at Rey and I from years ago, attending some holiday function. We’re dressed smartly but our faces betray we’re sloshed. I remember that year. It was a nice holiday.

I don’t want them to find Rey.

“Tell me your name, love,” Devin prompts, clearing the message box’s title, changing it to an editing screen I’ve never seen. “You really, really don’t want us to start looking for her. If we don’t get her first, well…you already know how your people can be.”

“You really want to involve her?” my interrogator murmurs, hands sliding up my torso, holding and giving my arms a second’s rest. “You’re already here. This could be so easy.”

Together they work on me, one softly whispering how this would save Rey and the other detailing how much me people will want her head on a platter. They figured out my weakness without even beating it out of me. All the babbling I’ve done, all the silence I’ve given, just everything I’m here for…

I should’ve gone with Rey, should’ve made sure she was okay then defected. But that’s not what happened and here I am, threatening both our lives at once. They’ve backed me into a corner, forcing me to make some kind of move.

How much longer can I keep them occupied, or does it even matter?

“You’ll change your mind,” I shakily point out, sure it’s true.

“I can be kind,” Devin negotiates, eyes intent on me. “We’ll drop her real easy if you work with us. I liked her, love—I don’t want her hurt anymore than you do. You can keep her from this.”

That is what I came here for. They see they’re winning, know I’m trying to find the best possible solution. The guy behind me basically holds me up completely, likely waiting for an answer, and Devin is already erasing Rey’s name from her messages. I have no idea why the woman’s here so she’s the safest bet to lay watery eyes on. She stares back, unmoved. Everything about this is wrong and completely against what I came here for but I can’t…can’t let Rey down.

“I wrote everything,” I whisper, voice quivering, looking up at the ceiling, aware this is now on me. “I did, not her. I…”

Devin’s staring at me so hard I have to look back down to face him. He knows what I’m thinking before I can even finish. He nods along, fingers wiping out Rey’s name for good.

“You did, love. You wrote all of this for me, because you want to help us, don’t you?”

I offer a slight nod. “And my friend. Please, please don’t hurt her. Please. Please.”

His smile softens, sees where my vulnerability lies. “Provide us with what we want and you have my word.”

“It never gets out,” I add, chest rising, panicking. What am I doing? This is wrong. “Never. If she’s hurt—”

“She doesn’t exist in comm logs any longer,” he rationally interjects as if it’s normal to do that. “You want to be her so bad, so all you have to do is replace her.”

“Give us your name, sweetheart,” my interrogator urges, forearms squeezing under my stretched ribs. “Let us help you.”

They’re going to know soon enough. This is all I’m going to be offered, I know it. How they interrogate is a bit different from ours, but I’m still fighting, still sure this is the wrong path to take.

I lock eyes with Devin, adamant he understands my position. “You don’t want to betray me.”

He doesn’t flinch. I’d think he was a pussy if he did. “I can work with that. I tell everyone the same. So…do we have a deal?”

My chin drops, tired. He’s going to know eventually. Might as well use it as leverage while I can. This is pathetic: I didn’t even last a week. Defeated for now I give him what he wants.

“Edin Bashir. Fortaleza. Eighty-third unit.”

Devin’s eyes light up. He knew me beforehand, I can see this now. Looking down he adds my name to the messages, forges who was sending them. “The lovely Edin, her best friend…and of brother fucking fame. Oh yes, love, you’re going to help us out so much more than Rey ever could.”

While I begin panicking he nods to my interrogator, who hauls me down from the hook and lowers me in his arms. I struggle against him, whip to try and face Devin as he and the woman head for the door. Devin glances back, smiling.

“Thank you, Edin. Armin’s gonna take you to get cleaned up. Don’t worry, your secret stays with us.”

It better. I’m breaking down while Armin pulls off my cuffs and stabilizes me on his hip. Everything…everything is over. They’re going to learn everything, I’ve failed Rey and I’ve failed my people. I walked right into the enemy’s trap. I can’t help hyperventilating, tears coming back just as suddenly as they’d stopped.

“Come on, there’s a girl,” Armin encourages, dawdling with me until we shuffle out into a dim hall. “We’ll have you cleaned up, get you some sleep. Did the right thing, sweetheart.”

It doesn’t feel like it. I lean on him anyway, crying hysterically, allowing him to continue offering soothing words on our trip up to the showers. He’s affectionate, has some sort of soft spot for me and I’ve been using it to my advantage. I’ve worked with psychos like him before.

I’ll use him to my advantage for as long as it takes.


	42. XLII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Survival isn't pretty, sorry. :/

Monday, July 17th, 2056, Sofia.

Large hands roll my head side to side, a terrible way to wake up but it is effective. Pulling out of blackness I gasp and jerk forward, eyes wildly darting back and forth. The same sterile room still surrounds me, Armin still standing on front of me just like we left off.

Fuck, I’m still here.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he cajoles, pulling my chin up, allowing dizzy eyes to settle on him. He looks so alert and excited compared to me. “We’ve got a couple more things to go over.”

I’m sure we do but I already told him several prisoners we held, doing my damn best not to even think about the higher leveled ones. They don’t care about the smaller ones; they want to know who was in Bhutan and what was relayed from our interrogations.

I was stupid enough to inform him I was a guard, addled brain thinking it’d be a good idea.

They do their own interrogations much differently than ours, though I’m not sure it would’ve been any different out in the field. Here, in some humid building in God knows where, it’s more psychological than physical. It still hurts.

Always sick to my stomach my eyes shut tight, Armin clapping my cheek until they open again.

“No sleep yet. Come on, there’s a girl.”

He cradles my face, keeps me semi-coherent. He has a soft spot for me, I don’t know why, don’t care, but I use it as much as I can. He’s the only one I’ll give information to, if I have to give it.

“What else you do?” he wants to know, already aware I was working within the prison. “Can’t just guard empty halls.”

“It’s all I did,” I moan, slumping in the chair I’m currently tied to. My back is soaked with sweat, just like everything else. It’s so hot in here, and it never gets better. “They wouldn’t let me…wouldn’t…”

Armin wakes me up again and we repeat the same conversation several more times. That’s the only problem with them drugging me. I’m not very combative but I can’t stay awake long, either. He’s fairly alright with my dozing, likely because he’s figured out what works on me. I try to be as responsive as I can with him. Half the time it works, half the time it frustrates us both.

“Edin,” he drawls, sitting down opposite me. I imagine it’s tiring pacing all day, especially in the stifling uniform he has to wear. “What else did you do down there?”

They sedate me to keep me calm and compliant which makes it difficult to cry but I work out some overwhelmed tears. All I have to do is remember I’ve fucked everyone over and I can make myself sob like a child. My gaze lowers to the floor, lip quivering. I need to make him think I hated being there, that it was torture.

“They…they had us move them.”

“Where to?” Armin prompts, voice soft. I cry harder, prepared to give him a limited story about these types of interrogations. He’ll have to work through a curveball first.

“To…these.”

“These?”

I nod to him, around the room, shifting uncomfortably. He knows I’m agitated, stressed by the idea. “I don’t—didn’t want to watch.”

A hand is holding my knee, stroking it. He’s piecing things together. “Why’d they put you in there? You don’t strike me as the guard type.”

He’s right in his guesses. Everything he mentions are things I questioned myself over. I double down, whimpering. “Because.”

“Why’d they have you guard places like this?” he asks again. I huff dramatically, tragically.

“Cos I’d been there before,” I whisper, ready to talk all about my time in Colombia if it’ll give me more time. I teased it the day before, spent a lot of time thinking about it. If I’m going to tell them anything it’s going to be that. It’s why I’m so fucked up, I know it is. Saving it, keeping it bottled up for so long, gives me at least _something_ to divulge now that it won’t hurt my people.

“Sweetheart,” he coos sympathetically. “Where at?”

“Colombia,” I detail between sobs, ensuring I only give what’s necessary. I can feel the sedatives still working through me, demanding a calm I have to fight to keep this up. “I was—”

The fact I can’t finish, that I’m bawling uncontrollably, makes me feel so pathetic but it’s working. Armin goes quiet, chair scooting closer to mine. He plays the role of good cop just as well as when he’s beating me.

“Hey,” he softly appeals, stroking away tears. “La Raz is a lot different than us. Long as you keep talking nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

If we ignore the fact I’m tied up that’d be believable. I lean toward him, let him keep touching me. Anything to convince him I’m trustworthy.

“I’m scared,” I confess, panic coming through my panted, harried words. “I don’t—I can’t do this again, you’re going to kill me and this is all for nothing—”

“Shh,” he urges, both hands on me now, rubbing my legs to try and bring back the calm. “You’re fine, sweetheart. Nobody wants you dead. Tell me about Colombia. Come on, don’t cry. Save that for real shit. Where were you?”

I wait several minutes, calming myself down and leaning back, sullenly eyeing his chest. He could kill me if he wished. His biceps are huge. The gentle attitude reserved for me could be an act but if so, we play against one another well. When I mumble the camp I was at his expression hardens, and then he smirks. He squeezes my thighs affectionately.

“You’re one surprise after another. Tell you what, sweetheart; let’s take a break and talk about camp. I wanna know all about it. You recall who led Manzinoles?”

La Raz, I gather at this moment, may not be on the same page as the Reds. I tentatively tell Armin what I can, using it to buy more time. Anything to give me extra time to make up convincing lies about Bhutan.

“We were in Bogota last…last summer,” I offer, voice small compared to the cloying silence of the concrete room. Taking a deep breath I try to keep awake. It should be easy when I think about last year but these drugs are too good. “I was…with a different unit. Um, there was a night where…where the city fell. Lots of us were captured, sent to camps. I was in Manzinoles. We were…sent there by the truckload, alive or dead, didn’t matter, we sorted that out after arrival.”

“Who was in charge?” Armin asks, thumbs treading toward my inner thighs. He sees I’m truly uncomfortable. I don’t want to think about these things. He’s providing a distraction.

I nod slightly. “Ye. A woman. She kept us in pits…burned our dead so we could watch.”

The ringing in my ears I experienced back then returns, reminding me how on edge I was in the past, how this _has_ been a walk in the park so far.

“How long were you there?” he presses, intently studying me. I look down to his hands, let my legs relax, thighs spreading.

“Couple weeks. They…asked us things, beat us if we couldn’t answer, shot us if we refused.”

“How’d you survive?” he wonders, lips pursing when my tears return. I shake my head, determined not to relive it.

“I don’t…don’t want to think about it.”

“You’d be helping us,” Armin entices, gently spreading my legs wider. “Come on, be a good girl for me.”

Despite my pulse hammering through me I swallow tortured thoughts, try and put together a good narrative. “Um…whatever they wanted. I couldn’t figure out what they were ever asking so I just…did whatever they wanted. L-lit pyres, dug graves, removed valuables from…corpses. Serviced…them.”

Armin’s face changes, darkens. Of course he hones in on the last part, as if that could possibly be the worst. “Oh, sweetheart. No wonder you’re such a mess.”

That’s the idea. I let him believe what he wants, that it was the worst part, never mind sex somehow never happened. They were too busy beating and directing us for that. Too busy having us fight one another for entertainment, shoot those who were ready for death. These are the things I don’t want to think about. I burst into more sobs, putting on a show. I need him…need him to feel he can fuck me, need him to feel close to me. I can do this. I can keep secrets.

Bhutan will be buried with me.


	43. XLIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make a break for it or do as your told in the hopes they'll keep their word? Decisions, decisions. TW-some unwanted sex.

Wednesday, July 26th, 2056, Sofia.

Armin becomes an integral part of my plan, a necessary cog in the machine. He is my confidant, my ill-advised comfort, my perpetrator. Every day I’m paired with him I thank God for giving me another chance, another opportunity to warp our relationship a little further.

I let him fuck me when he wants it, let him get something out of this. In return his questions are shallow, things I easily avoid with tears and whining. He can’t be as stupid as he’s acting but for whatever reason he’s allowing it. I will use this for as long as I can, only offering bits and pieces of my time in Bhutan, things anyone could know if they worked for us, not specifically downstairs. That information stays buried deep.

I’m drowsy one morning, aware it’s super early from the lack of noise outside my tiny cell. If I’m not being questioned I’m out so my sleep schedule’s messed up, providing me with many hours in the day to lie listlessly on my cot. My head’s pounding, sedatives draining me of any normal functions and rendering me sick, constantly. It’s almost a blessing they don’t feed me much, a lot of it coming back up anyway.

Everything is to keep me weak, I already figured that out. They beat to break someone, then let them fester. That’s it. It’s effective. I pretend I’m dead, pretend I’ve already given the most valuable information away.

Uneven footsteps echo from the hall outside and I shut my eyes, thoughts flatlining. I turn onto my stomach, remind my body to be calm. It might not be for me.

It is. The door creaks open and someone stumbles inside. I never hear it clang shut. Staying where I am I freeze when a hand rests on my ass.

“Sweetheart,” Armin murmurs, gets me to yawn and roll over. He’s standing next to my cot, balancing precariously. He looks, smells drunk. My head sluggishly wonders how long he’ll last. He’s watched too much porn in my opinion, always wanting to bang hard and fast. It’s not enjoyable but it’s not horrendous, either.

I look up at him in the dark, blink innocently and draw my knees together. It’s what he likes, makes him feel like he’s owning me. Anything to give him an attachment. I thank God every day I’ve been given the necessary tools to keep him on my side.

He drops down on my cot, fumbling with his belt. When he speaks I don’t understand. It sounds Russian but I’m not sure. When I don’t do as he’s asking he nudges my knees, slurs in something I still barely understand but get the idea anyway—he’s horny. This isn’t exactly difficult to figure out.

Lifting both legs I spread my thighs, tepidly running a hand over my labia. Armin makes a soft noise and kicks off his boots, removing miscellaneous things from his pockets and encouraging me to touch myself. I pull up the oversized shirt I’ve been given, already aware he likes coming on my stomach or breasts, whichever is in range.

He clumsily crawls over me, rubbing his cock to attention. I mentally prepare myself, know he’s going to put it in dry and it’ll take a second to get used to. Relax. Relax, pretend it’s good, be submissive and vaguely try to refuse but not really. Just enough to make him believe I’m humiliated. Let him believe he’s protecting me by keeping me around long enough to fuck.

“Please don’t,” I mewl, pulling my folds open anyway. He whispers in his own language, succeeds in getting his dick in and then proceeds to sloppily kiss me. He tastes like straight vodka and his body is incredibly hot as he ruts into me, holding me tight beneath him. My room was already warm so I tilt my head, do my best to keep away from his overwhelming presence and breath.

His version of sex when inebriated consists of pounding into me like usual except now it’s completely about him. He usually likes to pretend to hold me, likes to call me names and insist he’s the only one who can help me here. Right now he’s lost in his own thoughts, leaning into me and urgently working to ejaculation. He manages fairly quickly, gasping in my ear as his cock twitches, still inside. I’m not particularly pleased with that but don’t complain, whimpering beneath him while he softens. At least I was a little wet toward the end.

My sex drive may never be the same after this, forcing everything to be clinical in order to keep it from being traumatizing in the moment. Everything is to dissociate myself from what’s actually happening, to pretend I am in control.

He lays over me, heart pounding, presumably catching his breath. Then I hear the telltale gurgles of snoring and cringe. For one he’s passed out on me and two, what kind of place are they running where he can get so shitfaced? Did he even think about the camera in the far corner or did he not care? He is a man, after all—his reputation only grows positively, unfortunately.

Going still I tilt my head to look for the door. It’s still open, cracked ajar and letting a sliver of light in from the hallway. I know running away is impossible no matter how tempting. If I’m not here my deal with Devin is forfeited. But…I do want to know where I am.

“Armin,” I hiss, unsurprised there’s no response save for snoring. I look at the door again, calculating my moves. Going far will result in…something bad, I don’t know what but it will. Then there are the cameras. There’s likely one in the hall, my head’s usually covered though out there so I don’t know where it’ll be. Basically, I think, my goal will be to find a window. I just want to see where we are, need to know the outside still exists.

Working out from under Armin is the hardest part, my heart pounding once I’m free and upright, head spinning as I crouch and search through the pile he dropped. He brought a hand gun. I mentally reprimand him but he’s of little concern when the door’s open.

Pushing out into the hall I’m blinded by overhead lights. It takes a moment to adjust and I twist back and forth in the meantime. Just my luck there’s a window several dozen meters down the hall to my right so I head that way, pulse skittering in both fear and anticipation.

It has to be early. No one’s monitoring the corridor, or maybe they don’t need to. Running the last few meters I come to a halt at a long, broad window. My body tingles with lethargy. It’s upset I’ve used so much energy so quickly but I push it down, stand on my tiptoes to look outside.

Sofia. Devin said we were in Sofia but that’s not very helpful to me. I don’t see much anyway, mostly because it’s still dark but bright lights twinkle in the distance, partially hidden behind some hills. Everything looks so quiet, so peaceful. This is where the enemy lives. It’s kind of…beautiful.

I know I need to go back, need to keep playing along, but I glance down at Armin’s gun, rotate it in my hand. Could end this right now. Could forget the guilt, the desperation and anxiety always pumping through me, telling me I’m an idiot for having ever done any of this. Could join my mom. I’d never have to worry about Rey, never have to worry about Devin’s team learning what I know from Maks.

No, don’t think about him. Don’t. I have to use what he taught me, trust he’ll take care of Rey. That’s all that matters. Focus on figuring out how to get through these interrogations.

Sweaty forehead leaning on the cool glass my eyelids lower, body regretting standing for so long. I walk back to my room much slower, trying to revel in this false freedom but failing miserably. I want my cot back, don’t care how small or uncomfortable it is. Armin’s exactly as I left him. I drop his gun with his other things, lower to my knees on the concrete near the cot. Am I crazy? Should I go back out there and make a break for it?

No. Don’t give them the opportunity to break their word.

“Armin,” I say a little louder, pushing at his shoulder. He snorts and partially wakes, struggling to his side in an inebriated haze. He doesn’t fully comprehend where he is so I help, nodding my dizzy head at the door. “You should go.”

At least he understands that. Launching from the cot he stuffs his dick back in his pants, cursing as he shoves things back into their rightful pockets afterward.

And then he pauses, looking down to me. “You…”

I hunch lower, trying to settle my head. “Go.”

He hesitates but not for long. In a flash he’s gone, heavy footsteps disappearing down the hall once he slams the door shut. If I played my part correctly I’ve just given him more reason to ‘protect’ me. Make him think I have a soft spot for him.

Will it be worth it? I have no idea but I’ve got to try, letting my chances at freedom slipping right through my fingers for this bizarre game I’ve created.


	44. XLIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So not everyone's a total pushover in Sofia's camp, I swear. TW-interrogation, torture. Basically someone's foot is getting burned off.

Tuesday, August 1st, 2056, Sofia.

Today Armin carries me to interrogation because I can’t stand on my own legs, his role having changed from interrogator to guard in the past few days. He doesn’t tell me why but I assume they found out about his fucking around. Everything’s incredibly hot as we head down a hall, the building we’re in apparently too old to retrofit. I’m always sweaty, always sick and always tired, bones shaking inside me. Some days I’m out for hours on end in a sedative induced coma, others I can’t sleep for shit.

Interrogations are so much worse when he’s not doing them, ruining my plan to hide behind him for as long as I can. The people who replace him do not care how much I cry or scream. He does. I can feel it in his grip when he delivers me, tying me to a hook before removing my hood. He took an awful long time getting here and when I can see I understand why.

The girl Devin brought with what seems like ages ago stands before me, a cart full of tools at her side. She’s not alone, several of the other interrogators standing behind her for emphasis. Blood constricts in my veins and I look over my shoulder, Armin leaving the room without a word. Twisting back I hold my breath, try to keep dizziness at bay. I have a feeling they’ve run out of patience.

“You enjoy playing with us?” the woman wants to know, accent different than the others. I can’t place it. I stare at her like I don’t understand. Her upper lip curls. “I read your reports. You tell us nothing we didn’t already know.”

She’s probably right. Swallowing thickly I look down at my stained shirt. Think, think hard. Fuck, I’ve had all this time to plan and all I’ve done is deflect. My brain is foggy, can’t sort anything clearly.

“Fortunately,” the woman continues, “we have reports from _your_ facility with your name all over them to go off. Ms. Bashir, you’re going to speak today, and you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. You don’t want me telling Devin about this, do you? He’d be worse, trust me.”

She doesn’t even smirk when she teasingly adds, “And that poor girl. Not too late to send out a call for her. He’d do it, Ms. Bashir. Me? I don’t care—I just want answers. Today. You can help or not, I don’t care. I’ll get what I want regardless.”

She likely will, she’s already picked up a syringe from her cart. Noticing my stare she taps it between her fingers. “I’ve heard you squirm, Ms. Bashir. I’m not having any of that.”

She certainly isn’t. I let her inject me, craving something to make the other sick feelings dissipate anyway. It works, dulling the previous pain but deadening my senses. I dully watch this woman calmly glance over her plethora of tools. Logic tells me to just fork over whatever she needs. Bhutan was already compromised, they already went through our files and resources. What’s it matter now if I speak? It has to have been some time since I was captured. Bhutan’s got to be destroyed by now.

The rest of me isn’t so sure about that tactic. Why not make her work for answers? Her people ruined everything, not me. There’s no need to make it easy for her.

I’m not nearly as adamant after she starts, asking easy enough questions and getting nothing from me which results in the real interrogation. It’s much more familiar, much more terrifying than the slow burn process Armin’s been trying. I almost wish we were back to the first few days, his belt tactic bearable compared to what she puts me through.

Being choked while hanging from the ceiling is doable, my mind fluttering off and pretending this is sex. It doesn’t work for anything else though, not the punches to the gut, the face, multiple places at once. I feel like I’m being jumped into a gang only there’s no reward here.

I don’t answer out of principle, remember the prisoners I dubbed cowards and vow to hold out longer than they did. This whole time I’ve played weak, let them believe I could be manipulated until they realized I was manipulating them. She’s not getting what she wants until I absolutely can’t handle it, until she goes to Devin and I know she doesn’t want to do that.

She wants to handle this on her own.

She asks who was involved downstairs in Bhutan’s prison, lists off several familiar names to get me started, and then demands who else was a comm there. She wants to know how long Bhutan was in operation, the amount of prisoners we handled on average and who made executive orders. She asks for passcodes, shift schedules, comms who regularly communicated with us and more. She demands how our supplies were shipped and who they were coming from. Where was I prior to Bhutan, what’s the layout of Lagos’ base like? How about our hold in Turkey, in Australia, in Moscow?

So many of these things I honestly have no clue how to answer, These…weren’t things I was privy or paid attention to. In a daze I try and keep track of the things I can answer, working out how to better spin them in my head while members of her team take turns using me as a punching bag. When I do eventually crack I need to have good, convincing lies.

I keep my mouth shut, scream only when I can’t think of anything else to block out various aches and pains lighting up inside my body. Make them believe it, make them believe this is the worst. It is, but make them think they’re winning, that they’re going to get inside my head. Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so out of it. They are good at their job, inflicting massive amounts of pain via touching, stretching, pulling, fingernails digging into my skin and leaving little bloody welts.

My heart keeps pounding, brain frantically believing this is going to be the end, sending out all kinds of signals to the rest of my body and making it difficult to concentrate. Through the haze I force myself to keep breathing of all things. Out of anything else, that’s the most important one. Just…breathe.

I will be fine, I know it. I will.

Blackness envelopes me several times and each time I’m woken with harsh slaps, chokes, anything to keep me alert. Every time I have to reset my resolve, remind myself to hold it together.

This goes on for several hours. The woman eventually switches tactics, bringing a knife into rotation which succeeds in making me buck uncontrollably on my hook, making it worse when it slices through flesh. She never cuts deep, the point being to make the most pain for the least amount of downtime.

I see now why our company didn’t resort to violence until it was inevitable—it leads to false positives. Under pressure I’ll scream out I’m willing to talk and then I don’t, panicking and wasting time and the process starts again. Of all the things I’ve seen Basman and the rest of the team use—pliers, chains, hoses—I know she’s got equivalents, though she doesn’t seem interested in taking out my teeth.

After cutting into my earlobe I pass out, again, coming to via the smell of burning metal and a familiar whine. She went straight to the torch. I instantly think of my eyes, shut them tight and pray to God I’ll pass out again. It doesn’t happen.

“I see you’re familiar with these,” she says, tone terse. It’s very apparent she feels I’m wasting her time. “You ever use one, Ms. Bashir? No? You must’ve.”

I budge a little. This bitch isn’t getting my eyes that easily. My mind’s on one track now, selfish about keeping myself intact.

“No,” I squeak, shaking my head. “No, never, but I’ve seen them…use it.”

Stating so doesn’t prevent her from letting it’s whining continue. “Really. These are considered cruel and unusual, Ms. Bashir.”

Yeah, I’m sure they are. I can’t help spitting up the first thing that comes to mind, consequences be damned. “Saw them in your prison camps, too.”

“They do things differently in the Americas,” she remarks, unconcerned. “Here? Here we don’t use them.”

Yet she’s still holding it. This clearly isn’t sanctioned but when has that ever mattered?

“If we did,” she continues, and I can feel heat near my right arm, “we’d use it in a variety of ways. I’ve heard your people enjoy using it to gouge certain things. Hypothetically, I prefer it’s use as a toaster. It’s much more effective in my opinion.”

It sounds like it. Burning, I can handle it. I can—

Oh my God, no I can’t. Fire erupts on the sole of my right foot and I shriek like I’ve never shrieked before. My entire body’s consumed, scorching heat exploding through every single nerve. I jerk hard, a part of my mind cracked open that’s never been used. It doesn’t care what I’m trying to do, demands I do whatever it takes to make this stop. Pain isn’t worth keeping secrets.

The torch is eased but my foot still burns, tight and throbbing and I don’t dare try moving it. Hysteric cries escape my mouth and I want to die. Never have I felt something like this, it’s memory still sending shooting flames crawling up my legs.

“The best thing about this method,” the interrogator informs me, “is it’s so easy to throw you in a regeneration chamber. Let the burns heal and do it all over again. They ever do that in Bhutan, Ms. Bashir?”

Not that I know of but I’m sure it did. I can’t think straight, can’t offer an answer besides ‘no’. There’s no way, no way I can do that again. It doesn’t matter what I swore, I can’t.

“You can make this stop,” she unhelpfully tells me, weapon of choice coming to rest on my right heel again. I literally didn’t know I could scream so loud, bones crumbling within me. What the fuck am I doing this for? None of it matters, nothing. I’m out of my mind, don’t care what I do at this point so long as she stops. She’s won and she knows it, drags the torch up my leg for added measure until I blindly concede. Even then it’s not enough so she keeps going past my knee, ensures I’ll give her everything.

“Andy Singh,” I shout in between her ministrations, head pressed to an arm. “Andy Singh. That’s who we answered to.”

I list off his head of command, don’t care what I’m giving away. We’re all fucked anyway. Everything she wants to know I tell her, make up what I can’t answer and offer my best guesses. Codes are given, server locations and radio frequencies. Everything. I don’t care. If we lose because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut then we were fucked anyway.

The woman appears pleased with herself, steps back and nods along to everything flooding from my mouth. My chest heaves, defeat pulling me down into the pain just as much as the weight straining my wrists.

In the end she learns nearly every single bit of information I ever knew. The only thing I exclude is Maks and Rey. I said their names, sure, detailed the involvement, but not the extent. Devin may know what occurred but she doesn’t get that version.

Instead I make it Miri who was lead of operations in the prison—she was the first name to come to mind. Rey worked exclusively in med, never went downstairs a day in her life. The amount of distance I put between them and our duties isn’t a lot but it’s all I have left. Anything to lessen involvement.

The woman allows me to go on for over an hour, all kinds of things learned. They even unhook me from the ceiling at some point, soothing one ache and trading it for my festering legs’s pain instead. I don’t dare ask about it or beg for something to make it stop. If I can feel it through sedatives then nothing will help.

Looking at it isn’t considered in the slightest.

Surprisingly I don’t pass out again, and when I’m done she appears rather impressed with what I’ve given away. She’s been pacing around the entire time asking occasional follow up questions but mostly silent. I pitter out, exhausted and quivering like a dog. She crouches in front of me, hands clasped.

“You could’ve saved a lot of hassle telling us this earlier,” she notes, as if my behavior was silly. “What, you thought you could keep all this to yourself?”

No, but I needed to buy Bhutan time. I hope I at least did that; everything else I failed at, miserably. I keep trembling, body too sensitive and raw to do much else.

“Would you talk?” I quietly ask, voice hoarse. “If you were caught?”

She smirks, rises to her feet. “I would’ve died first, but don’t compare yourself to me. We have nothing in common.”

We don’t. I’ve watched torture, been involved in it but never actually initiated it. I’m weak, she’s not. That’s the difference.

The woman summarizes the things I’ve divulged, lingering on key names from both my team and prisoners. When she discusses Garza I haphazardly nod along while she returns to her tools. I’ve given her everything I can, what more does she want? Or is this is? I’m no longer useful so therefore it doesn’t matter what happens to me.

She returns to stand before me, a long metal rod in one hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Bashir. I’d give you some rest but from the sound of it you allowed many of my comrades to suffer. It’s only fair you’re given retribution, ye?”

God I should’ve glossed over interrogating Garza. She hits hard with that thing, the only reprieve being it quickly knocks me out cold in several swings. I’m at peace by then, both ashamed but relieved it’s over. I did all I could, worked against them as long as possible. I don’t care if I was weak. I’m just happy it’s done.

Yet it’s not. It feels like I’m out for only a second before I pull out of blackness, my entire body on fire once more, no amount of sedatives able to keep it calm. I thrash before I can tell what’s going on, struggling to get out of some kind of hold.

“Shh,” Armin cautions, holding me tighter, which hurts more but I can’t exactly voice this, breathing out panicked chokes instead. “Shh. Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Lies, every single word of it. I keep panicking, head fuzzy and unsure why he’s cradling me and fucking A, everything is on fire. Everything.

“Help me,” I gasp between pained keening, turning into him, weakly grasping at fabric. “Help, they’re gonna kill me. Fuck, they’re gonna—they’re gonna. They will.”

Continuing on he carries me upstairs, jostling and making me cry more. He whispers apologies, shushing me constantly. My babbling happens of it’s own accord, pushing from my mouth without warning. Now I know how Rey felt.

Our walk drags on for ages, him doing his best to calm me while I fall apart. I can’t help it. Everything’s over, they’ve won, I’ve betrayed my people and now there’s no use for me so what else would they do besides kill me? My thoughts race in a terrified loop, internal pain only intensifying it. I’ve lost it; that has to be it.

He brings me to the showers, gets one going and awkwardly stands under the spigot in order to wet me down. He’s gone quiet by now, letting me sob at full force. Water hurts but it’s a different sting, something else to focus on. After several minutes I’m down to at least whimpering. Doing some maneuvering he holds me upright to wash off blood and other grime, carefully keeping pressure off my lower half. I still haven’t looked down, don’t want to know what it looks like.

Once he’s got a towel around me it’s off to another hall, up more stairs and down other corridors before arriving in an incredibly cool office. White machines line up along each wall and even in my state I recognize rejuvenation chambers. By now I’m more docile, exhaustion pulling on me. He uses that to his advantage, strapping me into the first machine he can nudge open. Once I’m in tight he hovers over me, rearranges wet hair and ensures I’m coherent. I don’t know why he does what he does, don’t understand him. But…I’ve learned not to question it.

“Let’s see what this can do,” he softly encourages, lowering the lid but not before ducking and smoothing a kiss over a cut eyelid. It brings a moan out of me and he offers a reassuring smile. “Take it easy, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

I nod, believe him for once. The second the lid shuts an intense gas disperses through the dark pod. I remember these from Lagos, don’t really understand how they work but know they do. The gas settles, makes my eyelids heady again, heartbeat slowing. Slumping in restraints I let it take over.


	45. XLV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they actually intend to do in Sofia is finally hitting home.

Thursday, March 20th, 2059, Sofia.

Sofia’s airport is intolerably noisy and bright. Thousands of people meander about, perusing shops and passing time in a myriad of annoying ways.

It could be because I’m still hungover. Everything does feel more sensitive than usual, and it’d probably help if I ate but I can’t be bothered, sure it won’t help until my stomach settles from our flight.

Besides, if I want food I’d have to go with Ngo and we’re already at luggage, waiting for our bags. I’m not going anywhere now, especially in a new country, wouldn’t anyway without Maks. He’s affectionate when hungover, holds me to his front for the majority of our wait and plays the role of newlywed well.

Just six hours ago our entire party went through Moscow’s security with ease, flashed passports and visas and actually arrived to our gate early. As an entire group I learned his companions are just as capable of acting as he is, Ngo and Wulf playing the role of a wealthy, older couple and Christian behind us acting as a lone tech buff, which…he is, so that wasn’t hard. Everyone spent their time on the ground pretending to live out completely normal, if bougie, lives and the same occurred in the air—first class, of course. Where they’re getting money from makes me curious but I can’t ask, won’t.

We boarded our plane just as easily, none of us ever singled out, and the flight was smooth. Maks had several drinks on board to ease nerves, I suppose, which rubbed off on me and made the flight one of the easiest I’d ever had. By the time we touched down he had me convinced everything would be fine.

Our luggage is filled with important stuff that went through just as easily and so we wait at the carousel, patiently biding our time. Ngo returns from her hunt for food just as bags start dropping down the ramp, chats amicably with me while Wulf and Maks take care of our things. Christian idly involves himself in our conversation, both speaking so calmly I wouldn’t think they’d have a bad bone in their body if I didn’t already know them.

Once our bags are collected we head for the exit, a car already waiting for us per Wulf. Apparently they know a whole slew of people down here, and we’ll be staying with them. That makes me nervous but at this point there’s nothing I can do to stop it. When our plane circled Sofia my eyes were glued to the window, curious to see what the city looked like now. It looks more built up, from what I could see. We’re about to head into a huge city with strange people. Any calm acquired from the flight is gone by the time we reach the curb.

It’s cold outdoors. Maks keeps me company like usual, holds an arm around my waist while we wait for our car. My gaze keeps flitting across the never-ending stream of vehicles coming and going in front of us, nervously assessing the kind of ride it’s going to be. I ask how long it’s going to take to arrive at our ‘friend’s’ place but he doesn’t give much of an answer, merely sways with me on the sidewalk. Ever since yesterday his demeanor’s changed, relaxed a little around me. Wish I felt the same.

We keep moving from place to place, pretending to be things we’re not, and now we’re finally in Sofia to basically assassinate several personnel. None of these things are reassuring.

“Relax,” he murmurs into my hair, arms keeping me warm in Sofia’s cool night air. “Don’t think about it.”

It’s like he already knows what I’m thinking. He knew I’d been brooding all day over something. I just…watching the endless cars go by I recognize I’m very afraid of being here. Sofia was not kind to me. It ended much better than I thought it’d ever end up but it broke me in a different way. Being here reminds me of incredibly poor choices, things I resorted to for my own benefit and no one else’s.

“Everything will work out,” he calmly assures, head tilting when a black van pulls up ahead of us. I tense, sure this is it. This is where we join the others and I return to their side. I can’t help a slight shudder running up my spine, wishing I’d had something to drink now on the plane, too.

“Baby,” he orders, turning me in his arms. “Look at me.”

I do, gaze lifting up to him. He appears very serious. I swallow whatever worry I can stomach, try to put on a brave face. He doesn’t buy it, offers a knowing look.

“Trust me. Alright?”

And then he steps away to gather our bags, the black van’s doors opening up ahead. He, Wulf and Christian shove our luggage in and Ngo walks with me, offers half a pastry she picked up inside. I decline, anxiously watch Maks’ back as he and the others fit everything into the van.

While I appreciate his words I doubt it’s true. Still, I slide into the backseat with him and Christian once they’ve arranged our things, pretend he’ll do as he promises. Even if he doesn’t, I know what I’m here for.


	46. XLVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Low key making deals with the devil over here.

Friday, August 4th, 2056, Sofia.

I’m awake before the lid lifts open, have been for an hour or so, I think. Long enough to let my thoughts go wild. When it does whoosh open I wearily blink up at Armin, his face masked with relief.

“How you feel?” he wants to know without hesitation. Terrified is how I feel but I’ve practiced my answer. My hands numbly look for seat straps; he unbuckles them for me. I watch his hands move, surprised by his help.

“Fine,” I finally whisper, words tasting odd on my tongue. I’m coated in a fine layer of dewy moisturizers, an attempt to protect what’s been repaired.

His attention turns to my face, turns my jaw in one hand to carefully inspect what’s been done. “Good. You look it. Think you can stand?”

I test my legs and slide sideways, unable to look down until my whole foot touches cool concrete. When I do check I’m careful to keep my enthusiasm contained; my feet and legs look fine. Better, even, than before.

Slowly pulling upright he leans me against him and allows time to regain my bearings. I look around the room only once before being guided to the door, ours steps painfully slow.

“You tell her what she wanted?” he asks, voice barely audible once we’re outside, the hall humidly warm compared to my chamber. Without a second thought I nod, to which he adds, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I squeak, licking my lips. I know the chamber’s supposed to do all kinds of things to bring you to your peak but I’m thirsty, hungry. At least I don’t feel sick any longer. “How long…?”

“Barely over a week,” he answers, as if that should be reassuring. “You missed some things but we’ll catch you up. Sweetheart, here—let me carry you.”

He notices my struggle more than me. I’m already out of breath and we haven’t gone far. I let him do as he wishes, up in his arms in a beat, my own wrapping around his neck. This feels incredibly inappropriate coming from a guard but then again, this is always how it’s been.

“Thank you,” I timidly whisper, prepared to play along for as long as it takes. His head cocks to the side, lips closer than before.

“Don’t thank me. Listen; you know what they’ll do now. You’re useless to them, but you don’t have to be.”

I’m listening, gaze focused on his throat. We plod down another hall and he continues.

“When you speak with the others, pledge cooperation, show them loyalty. Do whatever it takes to leave here, that’s all that matters. Doesn’t matter what happened before, just get yourself to safety. It’s better than dying, ye?”

It’s not. My grip tightens on Armin, contemplating his words. He’s…right, I know he is, but it’s hard to accept. I’ve already done the worst I could do for my people.

He knows what I’m thinking, is aware of my doubts. “Hey, don’t think about it. Don’t let this shit dictate your life. Just get out.”

He makes a compelling case but I’m not sure I can do it. I’ve only just tamed the hysterics that kept wracking over me. My gaze lifts, catches his worry. Why is he being like this? I can’t imagine my attempts to manipulate were that effective. He can’t be that stupid.

“How?” I need to know, unsure what will convince his team. I can feel his shoulders shrug.

“Whatever they ask of you. If they don’t, tell them anyway. You want the war over, you want justice. Your past was traumatizing and you want to make amends. You want to fix what you can.”

“I don’t—I don’t know what else I can give them,” I weakly protest, automatically shaking my head. We turn a corner, head downstairs.

“You don’t have to tell them anything else,” he advises, so quiet I can barely hear him. “Just…work for us. Be our eyes, watch, report. That’s all you have to do.”

He wants me to spy. I shift uncomfortably, look ahead of us. We’re already in a hall I somewhat recognize. He’s taking me back to my cell, I think.

“But…they’ll know it’s me,” I tell him, unable to comprehend how this would work. He shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about that,” he repeats, tone serious. “Just do as I say, alright? Tell them you’ll help, tell them you’ll do whatever they want, beg for consideration. They know your worth; they know you’ll give us information. You can be valuable, sweetheart.”

I don’t understand what he’s playing anymore. I think he wants me alive, but for what? My life doesn’t matter to these people. Nothing matters to me.

“You think…they’d allow it?” I wonder, still skeptical. The way he looks at me tells me he does.

“Ye,” he stresses, turning into a new corridor, my corridor. “Please. Do whatever it takes to stay alive. You matter, not them, not anyone else. Alright?”

Why does he care? He can’t. It doesn’t make sense. I try wrapping my sluggish brain about what he wants me to do and he keeps walking, deposits me at my cell’s door. Standing next to him on unsteady feet I look up at his frame, brow scrunched. Did I really fool him? I don’t know.

He gets the door open, chin jutting inside where a bottle of water and a bagged lunch sit on my cot. “Eat. Get some rest. Don’t think about your past anymore, think about what you’re gonna do to get out.”

One hand nudges me inside and I delicately shuffle in, nervously wondering what he’ll get out of my cooperation. This can’t be about me, it has to be about something else, but my head can’t figure it out. I find myself turning and offering him a slight nod of agreement.

I don’t know what I’m agreeing to, honestly, but he is right. If I’m alive, that’s better than nothing.


	47. XLVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edin tries getting in Devin's good graces, some personal information is shared. We're almost out of the woods!

Monday, August 7th, 2056, Sofia.

Devin’s office is fairly large. It’s a mess, too, full of loose, half finished reports and a staggering amount of crates. I count them from my seat in front of his desk, patiently waiting until he returns from wherever he went. He was here when Armin first dragged me in; now it’s just me, wrists cuffed together behind my back.

I take the time alone to quietly rehearse what I’ve decided to tell him.

He finally returns, joking amicably with someone in the hall before shutting the door. There’s silence for a few moments while he rounds to his desk, offers me a fake smile, and shuffles some paperwork. I keep my head low, do everything to show I am beneath him and willing to do as he bids. I don’t care anymore. I just want to leave.

“You look better,” he comments after some time, a hip leaning into his desk. I take it he heard about what happened, can’t imagine it was kept secret. When I don’t have an answer besides a modest shrug he utters a soft sigh.

“So love, you’ve been here a while. Spent some time with Catherine, Armin, basically…a good chunk of our team. Catherine says she got everything she wanted. This true?”

I consider his words, make sure I understand them, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

My obedience makes him grin wryly. He takes to his own chair and studies me. “Armin’s taken a liking to you. He tell you to behave?”

Honestly, I’m not sure if lying will help my situation. I look him in the eyes and give the same answer as before, to which his grin broadens. He leans forward and sifts through several stacks on his desk, extracting a modest folder and dropping it to his lap.

“Glad you listened,” he softly comments, clearing his throat a second later. “Let’s have a proper introduction, love. I feel bad we’ve never really talked but, you know, it’s been a busy summer working out all kinds of negotiations. I’m Commander Lucas Devinson, or as your friend knew me, Devin. I run this region’s covert operations, including the one Rey answered.”

I suck in my lower lip, won’t dare let him see any weakness. He spots it anyway and pauses.

“She’s safe, Edin. I’ve no intention of outing her, don’t worry.”

I pray to God the relationship they developed was at least somewhat real enough to make him keep his word. For now I keep nodding along, looking like a fucking bobble-head doll.

“Anyway,” he continues, “while you were in Bhutan watching my compatriots die I was hearing bits and pieces about your life. From Rey’s vantage, obviously. Didn’t necessarily care back then but I suppose it was worth paying attention to, ye?”

It irritates me knowing Rey confided in this guy, apparently telling him all sorts of things she had no business divulging. That can’t be changed now, unfortunately, so I wait for him to keep going. He doesn’t disappoint, skipping to the most cringeworthy bit immediately.

“You were fucking her brother?”

My gaze moves to the floor, shame always pulling to my chest when it’s mentioned outside of the little bubble we shared. I don’t think it’ll ever be any different. “I…thought he would protect me.”

Surprisingly, Devin seems to understand. He doesn’t broach the subject again, moving on and holding up the papers he’d extracted earlier. “Aside from that…detail, here’s what we know about you. Let me know if our investigators left out any other surprising bits. Let’s see, Edin Maryam Bashir, birthdate June 4th, 2031—hey, I’m a Gemini, too. Raised in Fortaleza, didn’t complete…secondary school, no extended education. How were you friends with Rey? Ugh, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. Drafted February 2054, trained in Istanbul, moved to Lagos, Cairo, changed units and transferred to Colombia, added POW to your record there, relocated to Lagos and then back out to the Americas, to Bhutan which…I’ve been told you all refer to as Calgary. Right?”

Everything he’s said is correct. I keep nodding. Devin sets down the papers, looks me over. “Rey said you only had your mum until recently. That true? You’re all you have left?”

“Ye,” I whisper, ashamed to have even forgotten about that. It’s not that I forgot, necessarily, it’s just thinking about it makes everything that much worse.

“You and Rey were real close,” he comments, tone more gentle. When I look up I see something different in his eyes: sympathy. I confirm that was the case, forcing my chin back down. He thinks he’s pieced together why I’m here and not her.

Maybe he has. Good for him.

“We were,” I state, just in case he didn’t believe me the first time. “Always were.”

“That why she volunteered for service?” he inquires, to which my face hardens and I instantly reject the idea.

“No, she was drafted. We all were.”

“She told me she volunteered, love,” he adds, not missing a beat. “Said she couldn’t have you going alone.”

I’m quiet, don’t want to address it with him but my mind is racing. It could be true, but how should I know? I don’t have Rey to ask anymore. For all I know this is to throw me off.

Devin’s lips purse. He obviously finds my silence worth something. I don’t know how to work against him. Rey would’ve told me if she volunteered. She would’ve, she couldn’t be that stupid, she _hated_ every moment in the military.

“She said you two were basically family,” he admits, ensures I’m listening. “I get why you’re here, Edin. I do. I know what you think of us, know what they’ve told you, know what you experienced down south. I want you to know you were right in your assumptions. This would not have ended well for Rey, and it would’ve been out of my hands if she’d come here. We’d made plans to send her to Prague, to Munich…it wouldn’t have been pretty. But instead…we got you. Luckily, you were a lot more helpful than she ever was, and I see now where she got the majority of her information.”

I do, too. I gave it to her.

“So what I want to talk to you about today is what you could do for us in the future,” he moves on, carefully watching me. I stare back, assume nothing about where this might be going. All I have are the words I’ve practiced. “Don’t know if you’ve heard but we’re currently finalizing our talks with Shanghai and Lagos. Lagos has been surprisingly cooperative in handing over what we ask for. There’s a very good chance you’ll be considered a war criminal here soon, along with every single one of those who worked in Bhutan. That title will likely come with some baggage, probably some prison time or execution, depending on how merciful my superiors feel.”

He pauses a moment, sets my file down, fingers drumming on the desk. “I see three potential options for you. One, we give you the label of rat and shove you in with the rest of your kind, though I’m sure they won’t be happy to see you. Two, we execute you here and never speak of it again. Three…work for us. None of them, I’m sure, are what you’d like to do. I hear that all the time from other prisoners—‘let me go home’, ‘I just want to see my family’—but you don’t have any of that. What do you think would be the best option, love?”

He speaks as if I have a choice. I have none, never have in their care. The only real thing I can do is persuade, pray he already has something in mind for me.

“I want…” I give myself a second, sniff and look down at my lap. Will my eyes to water. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. I told myself if I did good in Lagos, in Cairo, everywhere else…if I did good, then I was helping, but I don’t…don’t think I was. I don’t want to keep hurting people.”

“You want to help,” he whispers, tone indicating he doesn’t quite believe it. Swallowing the lump in my throat I try again.

“I want to make this end, I don’t want other people going through this. If…if I worked for you, could I do that?”

“Sure you wouldn’t turn on us?” Devin slyly wonders, asking the obvious. I shrug miserably, hunch over as far as I can.

“They don’t want me back.”

“What about the Basman’s?” he asks. “I believe Rey at the very least would want you back.”

My head hangs, shaking. “No. They won’t.”

“Why not?” Devin’s just full of prodding questions. I take a deep breath, can feel snot ready to run over. This is perfect; I look horrible, I’m sure.

“He can’t forgive me and she…I don’t want to face her again.” I use what he said against him. “If she joined for me…then I’m the reason all of this happened. You know she tried to kill herself over this shit? Twice, now. I don’t want to think about them, ever again. This is my fault.”

I had to find her brother the first time she tried, called their mother in a panic who handed over his contact info and he was on the first flight from Istanbul to Lagos that night. It wasn’t over boys, wasn’t over anything in specific. She just…she’d suddenly realized her position, snapped from reality and and tried something stupid. She complained every day in Istanbul about him being our sergeant but we both knew, always knew she’d been assigned to him for a reason. I thought she’d gotten better, had started focusing on boys by the time we did settle in Istanbul, then she started talking to Devin. I thought it was good for her. I thought she was going to be okay.

I never told a damn soul about that but hey, Rey told Devin about Maks and I so now’s not the time to be shy about personal issues.

And it works. Just like that Devin nods in understanding, takes his time as he watches a few tears leak down my cheeks. He inhales slowly, exhale taking just as long.

“If you work for us you have no identity to go back to,” he finally allows, waiting until I look up to him. “Work for us and you become an entirely different person. I’d have to discuss it with my superiors but…I think you’d make a good informant. Nothing crazy, no war zones. Just…reporting on what you hear. You sound like you want to run away from your problems, love. This could be your ticket.”

“I do,” I admit, letting pain work through my brow. “I don’t…don’t want to be like this anymore, I want to help. I want to make this stop.”

His smirk becomes lazy, head leaning back while he debates what to tell me. Finally he nods in agreement. “It’s your lucky day, then. Let me speak with my superiors. I’ll see what else we need and if you’re _really_ lucky, you might even get out of here.”

I’m afraid to answer, don’t want to screw up my chance of survival. I take another deep breath, sniff again. “Whatever you want. I don’t care. I just don’t…don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have everything else completed (whoo!), I'm just working out edits and determining if some things should be cut or not (chapters from Rey/Maks' POV), don't worry there's still more sex. Like, I know nobody cares but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting through this, it means the world to me that my babies aren't 100% trash. Thank you :)


	48. XLVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night in Sofia before their plan unfolds. Serious conversations and sex just in case something goes wrong. Sauciness included and I'm going to go hide in my cave and embarrassment now.

Sunday, March 23rd, 2059, Sofia.

We take up residence in a warehouse in the industrial part of town. It’s multiple levels stuffed to the brim with people like Maks and his companions. There are hundreds more just like them, everyone professional and serious about working against a common enemy—those who’ve done us wrong in the past. Maks’ team is a mere fragment of the entire faction, but they are just as important.

They’ve brought bait, bait who’s seen the inside of Sofia’s inner workings before. Therefore, the second our bags are stowed in private rooms I’m questioned by a rotating group of people, everyone wanting to know as much from me as they can.

Maks stays with me because the one time he didn’t I ended up with a fat lip. No one likes me here, but they want what I can offer.

It’s humiliating.

For the first few days it’s simply questioning, thinly veiled interrogations despite my freely giving them whatever they want. I detail who was in charge in Sofia’s prison, in other offices I temporarily stayed in, and give descriptions of whomever and whatever I can recall, from Sofia to Bogota. Everything. It’s surprising to me that very few are aware of the things that occurred with La Raz, surprises Maks even more when I give my accounts.

Going through everything is a long process, leaving us exhausted every night. This process is repeated until Maks reconvenes with his team and several more members of their base, their plan quickly coming to fruition. I’m not included, already aware of my role, and spend my time without him stuck in our private room, reading. It’s boring as hell but I’ll take it over having to deal with those who detest me.

When evening falls Maks returns, looks just as tired as every other evening since we’ve arrived. He stands by the door for a moment, surveys where I am and rubs a hand over his face.

“We’re going tomorrow,” he announces, slowly ambling to the bed, perching on it’s edge. “Downtown. The office you said you’ve been to, that’s where we’re headed.”

They plan on breaking in to a secure building in the middle of Sofia’s city center on a Monday, the beginning of the work week. I sure hope they picked that for a reason.

I shut my book and swivel amongst the sheets. “Okay. First thing?”

He shakes his head. “Last. End of the work day.”

That makes a bit more sense, I suppose. I look down to my hands, pull on several loose threads. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeats, raising a brow. “That’s it? You’re ready?”

Nodding deliberately I glance up at him. All they need from me is to wear a microphone, walk in and be captured. All they need from me is a distraction. I can do that, and more. “Ye.”

“I’ll make sure you’re alright,” he starts but I’m already shaking my head. I don’t want to hear this again. It doesn’t matter what he says. What happens tomorrow will happen whether he has good intentions or not. The only thing that matters is we dole out justice.

“I don’t care,” I softly tell him, shrugging. “Just…make sure you find the right guy.”

Bypassing my words he falls back on the bed, spine stretching out, shirt lifting just slightly and exposing tan skin. “He’ll be there. It’s his base of operations.” Taking a deep breath his chest rises and he closes his eyes. “Edin, I…”

“Is everyone else prepared?” I ask when he doesn’t finish, still pulling at threads from the sheets. He confirms they are with a slight nod. Silence spreads between us, neither sure what to say next. This is it. Tomorrow is the big day, the reason he came for me, the only reason I came along.

To be honest, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t let me know about Rey’s murder. He still hasn’t talked about it much and I…I don’t want to know. If he hadn’t divulged that information I don’t think I would have gone anywhere with him. Would’ve stayed home. How I would’ve gotten him out of my apartment I still can’t fathom but I wouldn’t have left. I gave up the cause years ago; he knows I did. I’m here for Rey, not him.

Finally he tilts his head, gazes at me through slid lids. “Wanna go out?”

“Out?” My nose crinkles and I offer a slight smirk of disbelief. “I don’t think we have same idea about going out.”

He flashes his teeth right back. “I mean outside, to get some air.”

I know what he meant. Leaning back on both palms I think about it. If he wants to drink himself to oblivion that’s on him; I don’t want to help with that. “They wouldn’t mind our leaving?”

“Long as we come back,” he answers, tone light. “You weren’t planning on running away now, were you?”

Shaking my head my gaze roves over his stretched body, memorizing it’s sharp lines and curves. “No.”

“Then let’s go,” he quietly suggests, already pushing himself forward. “Stretch our legs. See what Sofia’s like at night.”

I only agree because he clearly wants out of the warehouse, and if he goes then there’s no one to turn to. We leave via our base’s backdoor, winding through several alleys until we hit a main street lining the Iskar river. For a Sunday night the streets aren’t too busy, relatively few cars whizzing by and even less people on the sidewalk. Maks holds my hand while we walk side by side, pretending we are in a loving relationship.

I wear one of his jackets over jeans and another blouse he picked out for me, a little less gaudy than the others at least. He looks well groomed too in a sports coat, making us appear like completely normal people. Like he’s not about to murder someone tomorrow.

We meander several blocks along the riverwalk, mostly quiet. Sofia’s not nearly as cold as Moscow but it’s still chilly. It’s beautiful regardless, the city’s newer, taller towers offering a glittering backdrop on the water. He clearly has a lot of things on his mind so I don’t interrupt him, keep to my own thoughts while we walk. The further we go the brighter the city seems to be however, the river leading into a park littered with carnival attractions.

Part of me yearns to pretend this is a perfect coincidence for our outing but the rest of me knows Maks wouldn’t have gone this way if he’d known. He grows visibly uncomfortable the closer we get but doesn’t protest the approaching display.

For some reason I can’t picture my date trying to win a cheap stuffed animal from a rigged game, nor do I want to make him do so. We walk through anyway, distracted by it’s colors. I appreciate he doesn’t let me go, always giving me something to hold onto while we look around, something I will miss dearly. I give his hand a squeeze, pretend I don’t see the upset look he gets immediately after.

He moves right past the attractions and deeper into the park, finds a bench, guides me to it. We commandeer it, taking in the the rest of the park shoulder to shoulder. Maks is still so quiet and it makes me wonder if he’s ready for tomorrow. It doesn’t seem like he is. If anytime was a good time to give him a distraction now would be it. The only good way to do that requires somewhere private so I obviously can’t work that angle yet.

I remind him of his reasons, instead. Leaning forward on my knees I study a small band of trees ahead of us. He has to know I’ve been curious, too afraid to really discuss it previously.

“Why’d you let her look for me?”

“I didn’t,” he answers almost immediately, tone guarded. It’s like he’s been waiting to say that. When I glance over my shoulder I see he’s staring, hard. “She didn’t tell me where she was going, or when. Just…disappeared.”

My head hangs. Fucking Rey. I never told her to come find me. “I thought she’d be safe with you.”

“She was,” he agrees, “but…you knew her. She did what she wanted.”

This is true. I still wish she hadn’t. Apologizing won’t make anything better so I don’t. “So…they picked her up last year?” I’ve thought about it a lot, never had any indication she was looking for me. The state never said a word about it to me but would it have even mattered? Not likely.

He takes some time before coming forward, too, hands clasped between his knees. “Ye. From…from what I found in her work she’d determined all sorts of shit—where you’d gone, erasure and emergence elsewhere, couldn’t figure out where exactly that ended but knew where it started and tracked from there.”

And instead of finding me she found Devin’s team. My heart thuds numbly. I didn’t ask her to look for me. I didn’t tell her to do what she did. I don’t…don’t want to be responsible for this, too.

“I followed her leads,” he continues before I can say anything dumb. “Took some time but it wasn’t difficult, not once we had the new name.”

I imagine it wasn’t. I never left Hong Kong, never strayed from the same job. I figured…figured the state would take care of everything.

“Went to Hong Kong,” he lazily drawls, examines his palms. “Looked through coffee shop after shop, found you, contemplated busting in and getting it over with but…didn’t. Followed you home. Kept thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you for getting her killed, broke in, and then…” He pauses, voice hushing. “I don’t know. Couldn’t do it. She said it wasn’t you, wanted to prove it. Thought I’d do it but I’m not any further than her.”

Smirking he adds, “You’re fucking lucky I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Does it really matter?” I ask, side-eyeing him. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Changes everything,” he disagrees, nudging me, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “Baby, I was crazy for you. Really fucks with my head knowing I let you have so much access to…everything.”

The idea of him sweating something he had no control over makes me smirk. “You ever tell anyone we…?”

“No,” he snorts, shaking his head. “Didn’t need to. Got caught a couple times on video and Obe wouldn’t take a bribe after what happened.”

“You bribed him?” Why am I surprised? My back straightens and I frown at him. “Wait, so didn’t they implicate you?”

His smile turns rueful. “I can be a smooth talker when I want. Took a lot of talking out my ass to distance myself.” Gaze going distant he looks ahead. “Rey helped. A lot.”

I bet she did. She never told him the truth. I’m proud of her. If she hadn’t gotten herself killed it would’ve been worth it. I debate telling him now but honestly, there’s no point. She’s dead. Let him think she was innocent. She just made some mistakes, like we all did.

“Were they able to fix her arm?” I wonder, to which he nods. “Good. God, I miss her.”

He doesn’t agree or disagree, lips tightly pursed. While he thinks I do the same, try to find something to reinforce his convictions. Nothing’s coming to mind but what I’ve been dying to tell him since I saw him. It’s not something I want to admit but…this might be the only chance I can.

I stand up, arms rising overhead, turning to face him. “I missed you, Maks. I’m sorry.”

Again he’s silent. I know he can’t forgive but that’s all I really want to tell him. There are so many other things I want to voice but we’re out of time and I don’t want to spend our last night just…talking.

“Edin,” he eventually says, voice barely audible over the noise behind me. “Tomorrow…be careful.”

He almost sounds worried. My cheeks heat up and I look down at my boots. He doesn’t understand and there’s no way to force it.

“You, too,” I softly whisper. “Please.”

We don’t have good conversations when it’s not about sex. Both of us awkwardly look for something else to say but there isn’t anything left. He rises to his feet as well, makes a half circle around me with both hands in his pockets. I swivel around, watching him. His gaze becomes distracted, face colored from the carnival lights, grinning ambivalently.

“Night’s still young, baby,” he remarks, inching closer to me. I giggle, let one arm snake around my waist and pull me to his hip. “Wanna head back?”

Resting my head on his chest I indicate I don’t. Of course I don’t. They may need me at their base but they still don’t like me.

“Mm…what about somewhere else?”

He’s instantly intrigued, a dark rumble rising up his throat. “Didn’t know you were into that.”

I’m not, not usually, but I’d rather never go back. My hands climb up his shoulders and I snuggle into him, breathe him, remind myself this was worth it. Tilting my head I beckon him closer, wait until he ducks his head, and whisper exactly what I’d like to do out here.

He listens intently, nods along and then ducks back when I’m done, a hungry smile crossing his face. Judging from it I know I’ve hit gold and I flash my teeth back at him, teasing.

“Please?”

“Of course, baby,” he purrs, pulling my hips on his.

We dive deeper into the park, far away from the fair and it’s remaining people. Maks still holds my hand but it’s different, more anxious. It makes me smile, forgetting about what will happen later on. We search through the park for someplace dim and secluded, somewhere ideal for pretending we are alone. Spotting a small gathering of old trees we both deem it suitable and trek to it, disappearing behind old growth. In the dark the park looks so subdued, so different than what I imagine it’d look like during the day. It hasn’t escaped me that I haven’t been out in daylight with him, ever, not even on our trip to Moscow.

Right now however I don’t care and when his arms wrap around me I hold in my shriek, gasping instead as he pulls me to the nearest tree. He quickly covers and holds me against it with his body. His heart beats hard above my shoulder blades, mouth brushing over my ear while he dips his head. I love the feel of his breath on me, push back like I’m trying to escape which only encourages him to double down.

“This what you wanted, baby?” he asks, voice low, smooth on my skin. Shivering, I can already feel my stomach fluttering in anticipation. I want him to let loose, want to pretend this is years ago.

He doesn’t disappoint. His hands work up and down my body, groping every soft bit of flesh encountered. Focusing on my hips he grips them tight, rubbing my ass over suddenly packed jeans. I can feel his cock throbbing, insides aching to get some of it. His wicked smile curves on my ear, enjoying my squirming. Mouth trailing down my neck he nibbles at my collar and I stifle another gasp, the air filling with his groan instead.

“Baby,” he tuts, fingers searching for the edge of my jeans. “You want to be my little whore, that it?”

That is what I asked for but I play coy, quickly shake my head.

“It’s okay, baby,” he breathes, overwhelming me, one hand invading my panties and darting through my folds. “Don’t be shy. I know what you need. You want your pussy stretched tight, don’t you? You want come dripping down your thighs, want my cock rubbing just right, make your legs weak and your eyes roll. Hmm? Don’t be scared.”

His fingers find my clit and we both sigh. My hips roll, trying to give him better access as he rubs it between two digits. When I moan his tongue traces up to my jaw, incredibly pleased with himself.

“That’s it. Take it, baby.”

I intended to fight him, that was the whole point about venturing somewhere secluded, but he’s turned me into this needy bitch and I can’t think straight. He must realize I’ve failed on my part of the game, words slowly fading from dirty to encouraging, hold loosening just a bit to keep me comfortable.

“You want to feel good, don’t you?” he whispers, working open a button. “Don’t care how, hm?”

My jeans are roughly shoved down, ass exposed. He uses his other hand to grab at flesh, cursing as he nuzzles my neck.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me hard. So soft, so fucking cute.” I help that notion along, hips jutting, back arching. The sounds he makes are beautiful.

“Fuck me,” I demand, twisting my torso so I can offer my mouth to him. He takes it easily in his, lips taking over, tongue exploring with mine, desperate to have all of me. Pausing in his search he strokes my cheek, then grabs a fistful of hair and holds me where I am. Our kiss deepens, warmth spreading through my body, the chilly night beyond us forgotten.

In a hurry he breaks it off, turns me back around and works at his belt, whispering for me to lift my ass. I do my best, a grin developing when his cock comes to rest between my cheeks. He rubs it up and down, mumbling how much he wants to fuck me. I beckon he do just that, rising on my tiptoes. Taking the hint he teases my slit with the tip of his cock, getting it wet first before pushing right into me.

Head turning I bite at my own shoulder, lids lowering. He feels divine, stretching me just like I knew he would and filling me to the hilt. Holding still for a second we both take in the sensation, and then he begins a slow, steady rhythm with his hips. Bracing myself on the tree trunk I enjoy his hands returning to my waist, generously squeezing me. He feels so good. My head rolls forward, soft moans escaping my mouth as he picks up the pace.

He covers me, breath hot on the back of my neck, uttering gentle praise for being a good girl and taking it. It wasn’t hard, not when I’m in such a state and can’t think about much more than getting him to fuck me. Every time he pushes into me he hits that rough spot that’s always aching to be touched, becoming wetter by the second. Even when we’re done here I know what I want to do once we eventually head back.

One hand slips up my shirt, finds a nipple and rubs his thumb over it until it forms a peak, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. I can’t help keening, wiggling pleasurably, wishing I were already naked. He palms my breasts, knowing how much I like it.

“I love your tits, baby,” he murmurs, too aware it’ll set me off. “They’re so perfect. Mm, I wish I could touch you like this all day.”

I would never be opposed to that, never. I want to do the same to him, know he’d never agree to it but that doesn’t stop my hands from reaching backward, pulling him close as possible, holding onto strong forearms.

All too quickly he pounds harder into me, forehead burying in my hair as his jaw loosens. I can feel his cock tightening, twitching inside me the faster he goes. I don’t want him to stop, make encouraging noises to try and keep him going but he comes moments later. Gasping heavily he slams into me a final time, cock pulsing, heat flooding my insides and making me coo. I remain as I am, hips quivering, enjoying his overwhelming presence behind me even as his arms slip around my rips, leaning on me for support until he softens.

In the meantime he plants harried kisses along my shoulders and neck, grunting his satisfaction in between. I lower to my heels, his grip returning to my hips before finding my jeans and shucking them further. Stepping back he drops to his knees, breath suddenly on my exposed parts.

I twist around to ask what he’s doing but his mouth attaches to my slit, humming as his tongue laps at my folds.

“Maks,” I whine before I can stop myself, partially mortified but mostly turned on to a higher degree. “Oh no, no. Maks, don’t.”

He doesn’t stop, hands forcing my legs further apart and continuing to eagerly lick my slit. Despite my squirming and dodgy looks over both shoulders he keeps up the assault, moaning the wetter I get. He encourages me to arch my back more, greedily finding my clit and lathing over the little nub. When I moan harder he knows he’s doing something right and pays more attention to it, aggressively flickering his tongue back and forth. I can’t believe we’re doing this. I can’t believe _he’s_ doing this.

Eventually he manages two digits in me, harshly vibrating them and sending my head spinning. I squirm on his face, crying out as quietly as I can but I don’t think I’m doing a good job, nor do I care. All I care about is the wave washing over my body, pussy clenching over his fingers, flushed face smashed against tree bark. Multicolored sparkles explode behind my eyelids and I break on him, tingling ecstatically while he groans his approval, lapping up both our come.

When he’s finished he leans his head against my thigh, reaching up to playfully smack one asscheek. Both of us are quiet for a second, the reality of where we are slowly setting back in.

Rising back to full height he keeps right behind me, acting as a curtain of privacy of sorts, fixing himself and then pulling up my jeans, too. I slowly rotate back around to face him, hardly able to even look him in the eyes. He finds it cute, grinning obnoxiously as he sets his belt straight.

“Couldn’t let you walk back like that,” is the only answer he really gives, which earns a snort of disbelief from me. Dreamily smiling, I rest against the tree and button myself up, then look back to where we came from. He does too, casually wiping off his mouth with one palm.

“We should…probably head back,” I softly mention, sure my cheeks are beet red right now. But when I look back up at him I can’t help it. I want him again already, want to keep this beautiful feeling coursing through my veins. “I want to…”

Glancing down he cocks his head, already aware what I want. “Course, baby. Gotta fuck you at least a couple more times, just in case.”

God, I’m going to miss him. I nod feverishly, accepting the hand he stretches out for me.


	49. XLIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good job Edin you played right into their hands.

Thursday, August 10th, 2056, Sofia.

It’s humid today, great rolling clouds covering the sky along the highway. My eyes are glued to whatever lays past stark grey concrete, trying to take in as much of the scenery as possible. I’ve been starved for this kind of stimulation, don’t care if my hands are cuffed and there’s no door handle to let myself out should I desire escape.

Escape isn’t really on my mind anyway, not when I’m in the backseat of a jeep, consciously ignoring Armin and Devin in the front and their terrible choice in music. They work in tandem, I’ve finally realized, one hanging back and the other doing whatever it takes to make their captives compliant. Armin, I now know, played into my hand just like I played into his. It’s humiliating knowing that, but I ignore my previous mistakes. Those mistakes are why I’m alive, unfortunately.

At least he doesn’t pretend like he cares any longer, not when there’s more business to attend to.

We’re headed to downtown Sofia, to visit with several superiors who want to discuss my potential responsibilities as a citizen of their state. That’s what Devin told me earlier in the day, Armin handing over a relatively better uniform and ordering I take a shower prior to being hustled out their holding facility and into the jeep. The entire time we’re on the road I feel like an idiot, blatantly staring at everything like I’ve never seen trees or suburbs before.

Also, Catherine sits to my left and I’d rather never look at her again in my entire life, so of course anything out the window is more interesting than what’s inside the jeep. I guess I’m just happy they’re letting me see where we’re going.

The ride isn’t that long, only about an hour’s drive via the highway. We roll into Sofia from the east and I get a better look at it’s in-progress skyline. Like a lot of other regions it’s in the process of rebuilding, several tall towers reaching above the clouds but the majority of it still submerged in cranes and scaffolding. Entire districts are rubble; I’m sure home looks very similar.

We wind through the city, emerging somewhere in the middle between tightly packed offices. Armin pauses the car in front of a nondescript building while Devin and Catherine get out, pulling me with. I don’t bother glancing back at the jeep once I’m out on warm concrete, already sweating, wishing Armin was coming with instead of Catherine. Even if he doesn’t care he’s still a better choice than her.

Both wrap an arm around either of my elbows and we climb up a short set of stairs, headed for several paneled glass doors. With the exception of several men in the same uniforms I saw breaking into Bhutan guarding the entrance it looks like any other office. When Devin nods we’re escorted into a sterile lobby, Catherine’s heels clacking on polished tile on our way to the elevators. They chat with one another in the lift, ignore me almost completely. To them, I’m of little consequence any longer.

That’s fine.

Several floors later we round through multiple corridors, stop at one door which Devin disappears behind for a few minutes, returning with a large stack of files and then we continue on down a hall until we reach the last door on the floor, it’s windows overlooking a large park below. I only know this because I stare at it for more than ten minutes while all three of us wait outside, only knocking on the door when Catherine checks her link and confirms it’s the correct time.

I expected perhaps a group of evil looking people of vaguely European backgrounds once we’re in but that isn’t the case at all.Inside there’s only a long conference table, with about four superiors in uniforms representing several corners of the globe sitting at one end. Devin joins them and Catherine guides me to the other end, making me sit down in an office chair. Aside from the car ride it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve sat on in ages. I focus on that instead of being afraid of the people in front of me.

They are, Devin mentioned this morning, the ones granting me clemency. They are why I’m still alive but to me they’re random people I’ll likely never see again and honestly, at this point, I’m numb to the idea of mercy or murder. Who cares? Not me. My life is over regardless.

I sit there for perhaps ten more minutes, Devin schmoozing with his superiors and Catherine standing right next to me, a hand on my right shoulder. Everyone seems to be in such good spirits. I think I would be too if my enemy officially declared defeat yesterday. Another fact I’ve learned in the span of several hours, another thing I truly don’t care about.

We had it coming, apparently.

Logistics of how resources and orders will now be distributed has their superiors giddy so I wait patiently like usual, idly wondering where these people came from. They can’t all be based here; their uniforms have several general features but the colors and styles are too unique to be from the same regions.

Finally they turn their attention on me, Devin introducing me and giving my background spiel in a few short paragraphs. All four barely look at me past their initial tepid interest, focusing on tablets in front of them instead. He goes into detail how I was so helpful in determining who was in charge of several key investigations, of providing evidence against La Raz (no one seems to like them), and how I did the right thing in leading them to Camp Bhutan. He tells them more things but I don’t recall actually doing any of what he describes, leading me to believe Rey was the one who gave him this information. It’s comforting knowing he’s doing as he promised…so far.

They ask him a few more questions in what I can only assume is Russian (it’s not) and he answers back in the same, leaving me in the dark. I shut my eyes, dissociate and pretend I’m elsewhere. Maks comes to mind. I’ve mimicked his stony exterior where I could, know it’s failed but at least it stalled their investigations. Noticing my face Catherine’s fingers dig into my shoulder until both eyes pop back open. I hate her.

“Ms. Bashir,” Devin states, bringing my attention back to him after some time. I look up, following his slow pacing.

“Yes, sir.”

He smirks at the formality, as do several of the superiors behind him. Good. I hope they feel like they’ve won. I hope they have plans to get wasted tonight once they’re done here. Enjoy having the legalized slaughter of millions of people on your hands. God, Rey’s pacifism was wasted for nothing.

“You state you’d like to work for us, granting this meeting today,” he starts, pausing close to me. “How do we know you’d remain loyal? You did such a fine job remaining quiet when we asked questions it’s hard to imagine you’d do as we ask.”

Well we _did_ just lose so there’s that, but I don’t dare give such an answer. Taking a deep breath my gaze drops to the table, pulling out the religious card. It’s not my thing but I know it’s power.

“Peter denied Jesus three times,” I softly tell him, appearing thoughtful. “Jesus knew it but still gave him another chance. He saw the good in Peter, the belief. I can’t go back home, sir. I’m sure…sure they know what’s occurred by now. So if there’s anything I can to do to repent, for believing in and doing what they asked of me, then that’s what I need to do. I saw too much carnage within my units, sir. I need…need to try and right these wrongs.”

That’s right, Rey’s mother dragged me to church enough to pick up on a few things. No one can argue with God—yes, I’m going there. Armin told me to say whatever I thought might work.

And it does. One of the women’s lips purse, thinking it over. She converses with her neighbor, who then looks to Devin. “Given what she knows and her appearance she could…provide the advantage we’re looking for. She’d do well immersed in questionable regions.”

I would, if they give me the chance. They want me to rat out strangers, that’s something I can absolutely do. I give a slight nod of agreement, still staring at the table.

“Your value depends on your ability to listen,” one of them explains, I don’t know who. “With a shift in leadership we’ll need those like you around the globe, willing to watch for any dissension and report without hesitation.”

“Basically,” Devin puts it into terms I can understand, “you’d be assigned a sector to watch over. Anything suspicious, anything even remotely associated to your former state…we’d trust you to learn about and report back to us. That something you could do?”

No but they don’t need to know that. I offer a fervent look. “Will it help?” When he confirms it will I agree. “Yes. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“You’d have no problem discussing strangers or acquaintances lives?” he asks, eyeing me like I won’t. I fix my gaze on him.

“There’s no reason not to.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, amused. He turns on his heel to observe the others. “We’ll start signing your life away then.”

“From here forward you assume new identification,” one of his superiors, the woman who first spoke to her companion, states. “Given your role we can’t have you popping up in a new region—it would not end well. With that in mind we are prepared to publicly announce your capture, torture, betrayal and execution for crimes against the state. You, of course, will not be involved in that and instead begin this role under a new, given identity in a specified state. The hope would be to cease any potential follow up or vengeance regarding your role, making it easier on both our party and yourself. If this is successful you’d no longer carry any ties to your previous associations or nation. You would be our citizen, by all accounts. Are you willing to do so?”

If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here. I take a small breath, nod again. “Yes, ma’am.”

All four superiors study their tablets, going quiet for a few more minutes. Devin never takes his eyes off me and Catherine’s claws never leave my shoulder. I feel like I’ve been judged, hopefully in a favorable light. They take their time, murmur to one another until eventually the woman glances up, studies me.

“Do you have any biases regarding the People’s Republic?”

It takes me a second to understand she’s talking about China, and even then it’s only because Devin mouths it. Blinking, I shake my head.

“No, ma’am.”

I don’t. It’s far away, far from anyone I could possibly know. Sure, they stabbed us in the back but that simply means I’d be perfect there. My eyelids flutter nervously after a thought.

“Um, I don’t…understand their dialect, unfortunately.”

“Not a concern,” she remarks, glancing at her tablet again. “You’ll be given a course in the upcoming months, everything you’ll need to know about living there will be discussed. We’ll form a background for you in the meantime and you’ll be sent to…let’s see. Yes, Hong Kong before Christmas. Does that sound feasible?”

She’s not asking me, but rather her companions. They agree it does and then tap on their screens a few times. Devin’s link chimes a moment later and his soft expression changes to one of triumph. He thanks his superiors for their time and steps to me, placing a hand on my other shoulder.

“Congratulations, Bashir,” he gently informs me, helping Catherine pull me to my feet. “You’re a dead woman by all records as of this afternoon.”

While they drag me out of the room I suppose I should be unsettled by the idea yet, strangely, I’m not. It doesn’t change on the walk down to the lift, or even when we arrive on another floor and I’m taken to a new, somewhat better cell. They leave me there and I sit on the edge of an almost real bed, quietly taking in my new surroundings, apathetic to the whole idea of being dead. I think…think it’s because I was dead the minute I decided to stay in Bhutan. The only thing that changed today is now it’s official.


	50. L (50!!!!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan commences and do I detect some hesitancy out of Edin? She may not have been ready for this but regardless "when I am with you there's no place I'd rather be."

Monday, March 24th, 2059, Sofia.

My heart’s pounding, unstoppable no matter how much I try calming down. We’ve been parked in a garage across the street for an hour now, planning and determining what each of our best routes will be. I don’t pay attention to everyone else’s, simply stare out the darkened front window of our van and study the office building I spent months in years ago. It wasn’t bad, honestly, but the people were another thing. I did learn an astonishing amount of Cantonese in three months though.

That’s not what I’m thinking about at the moment. Instead I’m wondering who exactly is in there, and where. I’ve paid attention to some of the things uttered around me but none of them have _been_ in there. They don’t have the advantage I do. I just need to find Devin.

It’s almost three in the afternoon. That’s when I go in. When I think about it my nerves spike. Maks is up front with Wulf and Ngo, all three quietly discussing amongst themselves how they want to best route through the building and their intended targets, each one having someone in there they’d really like dead. Christian sits next to me, messes around on a tablet figuring out the building’s security. I asked him earlier if a woman by the name of Catherine was in there but he didn’t reply.

At this point they’re all convinced I’m going to be killed the second I’m in there and no longer their problem. Maks insisted I’d be fine earlier but we haven’t spoken in hours and I truly doubt he believes it.

I don’t care. I just want to find Devin. Nothing else matters. I mean, I’d like to stay alive, too, but I doubt I can walk in, kill Devin, and expect to come out unscathed. Even their plan doesn’t give me a lot of options to live.

“Fourteen fifty-five,” Christian announces, the van going quiet. All eyes turn to me and I blink, look back and offer a thumbs up. It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t possibly speak right now. Now isn’t the time to show weakness.

Wulf, who I’ve heard speak very little up to now, keenly watches me as I fiddle with the buttons on my jacket. “You know your part. Go in, say you’ve been kidnapped and managed to break free, wait to be detained and questioned. We’ll be listening via mic. You know the signals, ye? Good. If there’s more than two security in the lobby let us know. You get in trouble…”

“I know,” I insist, shifting in my seat. “It’s on me. Anyone have any coke?”

The joke falls flat but an upper would help right now. Goddamn, I know I’m too old and I know it’d wreck havoc on my system but anything would help. “God, just a joke. Don’t worry, I’ll miss you all, too.”

Opening the door I slide out onto pavement, slamming it shut for emphasis before stretching my legs. The lot around us is full of other vehicles, commuters who work downtown and have no part of this plot. Cocking my head I study the building across the street one more time, fear tingling through my veins.

Fuck, Rey. I didn't want to do this. I still don’t but I have to. Why’d you try to find me? You could’ve lived one hell of a long life pretending nothing ever happened.

I’m not alone long. By the time I round to the back of the van Maks is pulling open the backdoor, revealing a dozen bags stuffed full of equipment, ammunition, and tech. None of it is meant for me. The only things I get are a mic already replacing one of my jacket buttons and an earpiece in case I need further direction. Everything else in here they’ll be using upon infiltration.

He looks through several of the bags, mostly back here to make sure I stay put for the next few minutes.

“Nervous?”

I don’t bother looking at him, or answering. He knows I am. I couldn’t sleep last night, not even after we fucked several more times. This is important. I don’t want to mess it up.

“You’re gonna do fine,” he tells me for probably the tenth time. My eyes roll and I perch on the edge of the back, willing my heart to slow down. It’s still not working. “Take your time, make them believe whatever you think will work.”

He pauses, looks down at the bags and then over to my hip. “Please do like we planned. I really, really don’t want to kill you, baby.”

“I know,” I repeat between gritted teeth, legs bouncing. This is for Rey. Devin can’t have both my cooperation and her dead. It’s not fair. I really don’t know how I plan on killing him but my mind’s swirled with ideas for days. If I could take one of the guns they’ve got in these bags it’d be easier but I don’t think Maks will let me.

He’s still watching me, hands not moving from when he last paused. I glance over, raising a brow.

“What?”

“Calm down,” he breathes, which sets me off. Hopping off the back I do a small circle on the pavement, angrily chewing at the corner of one thumb. If Devin’s armed I’m screwed, but if not I could do some damage if I manage to surprise him. All I’m thinking about now is him sitting up there in his office, idly looking through reports or whatever it is he does nowadays—how did Christian manage to track him? How has he stayed in this same place for years? God, there are so many questions I need answered and now there’s no time.

“Edin,” Maks hisses, catching my attention as he paces to me, a wrist circling over my bicep. “You’re gonna be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

I yank out of his grip and step back, eyes on the building again. This is serious. How dare he start this nonsense bullshit right now? He gets to use firearms. He brought me here for bait. Why am I suddenly having an issue with that?

“Why couldn’t you have just watched her better?” I demand, satisfied when his eyes widen like he didn’t hear that right. “I gave—gave her to you because you said you’d take care of her and you didn’t. Fuck you.”

“Shut up,” he orders, and since I’m such a great listener of course I don’t. I pace more, working myself up. At least it makes me feel like my body’s freaking out over something tangible.

“I never told her to look for me,” I remind him, just in case he forgot. “I _never_ asked for this. I could’ve—could’ve been at home right now making fucking coffee for rich fucks and you could’ve been doing God knows what if you would’ve just watched her.”

“Shut up,” he barks, tone on edge. I do for a second, mostly because I don’t know where I was going with that. I just…needed to say it. “You don’t know what was going on. You haven’t even asked—”

“Because I don’t want to know!” I exclaim, hands up and walking away. What a great end to my time with him. “I don’t want to fucking know, alright? I put her out of my head years ago and if I think about it now—.”

If I think about it now a lot of emotions I’ve kept buried for ages will erupt and I don’t think I can handle that. Ever. I’m sorry, Rey. I can’t do it. Pausing several meters away I turn around, hands jammed in my pockets. Not only do I want to punch someone but now I want to cry. I don’t want to go across the street. I don’t want to do this. I’m here for Rey but I can’t even think about her. This is not the kind of work I was meant to do. Do I really think I can kill Devin?

“Welcome to my world,” Maks bitterly mutters, upper lip curled. Scratching at his suddenly red neck he beckons me back to the van. “Come here. Let’s make sure you’re ready.”

I don’t move, nerves about ready to explode. Sighing, he steps to me instead, digging into one pocket on the way. Reaching me he offers a small flask but I don’t take it, sulking now.

“My own secret stash,” he bribes, twirling off the cap for me. “Calm the fuck down, baby. Take off the edge. You’re going to be fine.”

“Say that again,” I warn, to which he smirks and raises the vial. Given no one has anything else more illicit I grudgingly accept, swigging down barely a mouthful of vodka. It burns going down, but it does give me something else to focus on. While I’m distracted he carefully slips an arm around my waist, hand massaging the small of my back. I’m sure he can feel how tense I am.

“Doesn’t matter how much I watched her,” he quietly informs me, voice low. “Or you, or anybody. You knew her. She didn’t need to be watched—she’d do what she wanted regardless.”

I know, and that’s what hurts the most. Can’t blame anyone except her and myself.

A car starts up somewhere down the way and I look up at Maks’ careful face. He’s worried, I can see it in the way he hides it. He has nothing to worry about though. I’ve never seen him in action on the field but watched him enough working together. He’ll do alright across the street.

His link beeps and he glances to his wrist, then to my jacket. Without warning I’m enveloped in a hug, catching me off guard.

“You’re ready,” he tells me, reassuring me yet again once I’m released from his arms. “You’ll be fine. I’ll come find you once I’m done. Believe it.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him that likely won’t matter. Offering a curt nod I look him over one more time, memorize his figure. Even though I’d rather be anywhere but here right now, I know it’s the only place I would be regardless. I saw Maks again, let my heart and body open right back up to him as if I’d never abandoned him. Knowing this isn’t comforting but it’s the only good thing out of Rey’s death.

“Be careful,” I bleat, turning on my heel and stomping away, pace picking up the farther I go. I blink hard, try to focus on what’s ahead. Everything else needs to be left behind.

This part is for Rey.

Two levels down I emerge from the garage and onto the sidewalk, heartbeat in overdrive as I stiffly reach the edge of the street. Across the way the Red’s office tower looms, a regular old building with nothing distinguishable. It looks like some kind of movie, a hazy spring mist looming overheard. Despite the chill I break into a sweat, pulse somehow increasing. Maks’ stash didn’t help, everything about me still shakes like a leaf. Shouldn’t have agreed to this.

No, stop thinking like that. There’s no home anymore, no job, no normalcy. I chose this, I’m going to follow it through. I’ve handled worse.

That 'worse' could possibly be inside. Fuck it, I have to get this over with.

Checking left and right I hop down onto the street and stride across, eyes fixated on the glass doors. No one’s around so far; they never had much security on the lower floors. It was all about security upstairs, and with the war over I can’t imagine they beefed up their measures.

I turn at the top of the steps, walk around the main doors to the side entrance. For one it gives me time to think and two, then I’m not directly looking at their front desk. Sidling up to concrete, I try catching my breath. All my nerves have been exposed at once, anxiety and fear boiling in my blood. It makes me dizzy, doubting myself even more. My stomach’s flipping, telling me this is a bad idea. I…

Bracing against the wall I look to the neighboring building, vision sparkling. I don’t feel right. My limbs are suddenly light, world spinning about me. This isn’t right. It isn’t. I know I’m nervous but this isn’t panic. This is rejection.

Bending over to dry heave my ears ring, so angry I can’t get this out of me. The only thing I can think of now is I’ve been poisoned. Fucking Maks. He wasn’t going to use me anyway. What was the point? He poisoned me, it had to be him.

“You motherfucker,” I hiss to myself, well aware they can hear me. If my ears weren’t pounding I might catch a response but I can’t and don’t care. “Fuck you, Maks. I’ll do this on my own. Don’t fucking need you anyway.”

There’s a response but it’s jumbled. Cursing them again I tilt my head back, will my vision straight. It doesn’t work. Fine. I still have shit to accomplish, guess I just have a time limit now.

Ripping out the earpiece it’s thrown away before I slide to the side entrance, using it’s door as a prop while I scan my palm. Great, my access still works. Once the door slides open I stumble in, knees weak, steps tentative. Fuck, I want to collapse but can’t, not yet. I have to find Devin, have to get to him before Maks does. Have to.

A receptionist in the lobby looks up from her desk, eyes big with concern. She immediately stands, calling to me in Bulgarian.

“Help,” I wheeze, blood pressure dropping while dizzily looking around for the elevators. Holding onto a wall I hobble for them. “Help! I need…I need Devin.”

The receptionist rushes for me but I shove her away, combative as hell before falling to my knees. Fuck, this isn’t what I wanted. I’m so close. Anxiously hovering over me the woman shouts into her link, presumably for backup or help. I don’t know. Curling in on myself I try drowning her out, try to keep breathing. Whatever Maks gave me burns my insides, makes me feel like my organs are being squeezed tight. A knockout would be preferable but I suppose that’s where this is going regardless. Everything hurts. Everything, from the foreign words pounding on my ears to the painful thudding in my chest. God, if he wanted me dead there were easier ways.

Finally the receptionist rises, running back to her desk for a moment. I use her absence to push from the floor, launching for the elevators. One hand hits the call button and the rest of me shakily holds onto the wall until the first door opens. I’m in that sucker in a heartbeat, forehead pushing on metal panels while I consider the floor options. Devin was on the sixth floor, I remember that. Outside I can hear the receptionist calling for me but those cease once the doors slide shut.

In the quiet I take a deep breath, fight to keep both eyes open. Slouching in one corner I wait, the lift humming on the way up, reminding myself this is important. Maks can’t get to Devin. He can’t. I won’t let him.

“He promised me,” I mumble, trying to put myself in the right mindset. “He _promised_. Can’t have both, it’s not fair.”

Fuck, I’m forgetting about my mic. I wrestle with the replacement button but my hands are too weak. Everything’s too weak. Before the lift even stops I’ve slid to the floor, hysteric over my inability to push through pain. He did this on purpose, I know he did. He was right not to trust me. I still hate him for suspecting I wouldn’t follow along.

By the time the door dings open my eyes are near glued shut, an awful sense of nausea, nerves and exhaustion pulling on me. I don’t know who surrounds me but I know I look the part of a distressed victim, exactly as intended. It’d bother me if I couldn’t feel the imminent blackout coming, washing over me. My eyes pop open but they can’t focus. I still recognize Devin’s face even in a hazy blur.

Calm, indecipherable words hit my ear, and then a real palm touches my forehead, tilts me backward. The instant I tip back my eyes roll and the world goes dark.


	51. LI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened post war part one.

Thursday, December 14th, 2056, Hong Kong.

“I’m so glad we were able to snap this one up,” Erica, my realtor, gushes, keys in hand and working open the old fashioned door. “That market’s so crazy nowadays what with all these changes. But, you’re gonna love this place, I just know it. You said you worked in Shanghai, didn’t you? Ah, our city’s so much prettier—especially this time of year.”

Face tight with forced pleasantness I manage a nod, quiet while I watch her. We’ve spent several days together looking at apartments and I’ve never said much, but she’s so ecstatic about my finally picking this place I feel bad about not being enthusiastic.

Swinging open the door she enters first, smiling brightly over her shoulder while I follow, entering what is now mine. It’s currently empty, bright afternoon light coating bare space and carpeting for the time being. Erika acts as if it’s the most perfect setup ever.

“Kareem!” she exclaims, shoulders hunching in joy. “Welcome home! Ah! I can’t believe our luck landing this. I can see everything now! Oh, there’s a store down the block that sells lovely furniture. I’ll send you their information tonight once I’m back at the office.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, my name still so foreign to my own ears. Ambling through the apartment I reach the large panels of glass stretching from floor to ceiling, observing a lush park below and Victoria bay beyond. It is a beautiful view, the main reason why I picked it besides being incredibly quiet. It seemed safe, too, far from the streets and people below.

Behind me Erika’s heels clatter in the kitchen, a bottle of champagne popped open moments later and accompanied with her delightful whoop.

“So, Kareem,” she muses, pouring me a glass. “This must be a big step up from Shanghai, ye?”

Hell if I know. I’ve never been but that’s where I supposedly came from, apparently having lived there for years before moving here to be closer to my family. Turning to Erika I put on a pleasant smile.

“Definitely. Thank you for finding this.”

Trotting over she hands me both the glass and keys. I accept both, grin a bit more genuine.

“Trust me, Shanghai’s overrated,” she insists, launching into a speech I don’t really follow. Sipping on champagne I’m still amazed I’m already here, the past few months a blur. Just last week I was still in Sofia, finishing up preparations for the move.

I came to Hong Kong on my own, armed with a backpack full of clothes, new identification and appropriate documents, and an obscene amount of money both in hand and in an account already prepared for me to use upon arrival. For months I was passed around to various commanders within Devin’s office, learning the history of this region and it’s language, and anything I’d need to report back to the Reds. I became a new person, saw my own report of execution, and changed my behavioral patterns. Everything prior to coming to Sofia was shoved down, buried deep in order to pull off a brand new life.

I came prepared to snitch on the entire city but now that I’m here I realize it likely won’t be as intense as I thought. No one here is familiar and I have no job, can barely figure out the metro system. If they expected a super spy out of me they’ll soon be disappointed, but at least I’m alive. At least I’m far, _far_ away from Devin’s team. That’s all that matters.

Erika goes on for a few more minutes before diving into details, explaining the ins and outs of the apartment and who to contact in regards to utilities. When she finally pitters out she heads for the door, subtly ready to go. I don’t stop her, thanking her again once she’s got her purse and shutting the door behind her. When she’s gone the apartment becomes so quiet, empty.

Twisting around I look at my new home, downing the rest of the champagne. Compared to everywhere else I’ve lived it’s huge, open and spacious and everything I thought I’d want in a home. It’s very…big.

Part of me wants to do my own walkthrough again but I wander back to the windows, drinking in the new view I’ve become lucky enough to afford. No one I know will ever see it, no one will be proud to see what’s become of me, not that they’d likely be proud anyway. This should be a fresh start, a chance to make new relationships, to assimilate and heal but…it doesn’t feel like it.

Lowering to the floor I sit cross legged, nose pressed to the glass. I have a beautiful view with no one to share it with. Erika doesn’t count. Rey would’ve loved to see this. By now she ought to believe I’m dead. Hopefully my plan worked, hopefully she’s as far from any of this bullshit as she can get. That’s my desire, anyway.

Leaning back I draw up my knees and blink back tears. Shove everything back down. Stop thinking about them, it’s not going to do any good. They’re not coming back, _I’m_ not coming back. I’m dead for all intents and purposes. With my background I can’t possible know them, so I don’t. I’m not the same person anymore.

 

XX Monday, February 19th, 2057, Hong Kong.

Every day is near the same routine. I enjoy the structure, the normalcy of it all. It fills a void in my heart, even if it is only temporary.

I wake up at four to head to work, a little coffee shop several blocks from my apartment, roast beans and get things going. My boss is very impressed with my barista skills, adding responsibilities on a weekly basis. The morning rush is always busy and I’ll stick around for several hours after, then run errands and go home. Sometimes I’ll volunteer for the evening shift, too, simply to keep boredom at bay.

When I’m not working I’m studying, working on a technical degree in the district’s city university branch. Along with bible study it keeps me busy. These places are also filled with people and I spend a good amount of time simply listening in on other’s conversations. I almost always report nothing unusual.

My new identity, I like to think, comprises of a very good person, someone with a heart who cares about others and greatly engages both customers and fellow students when necessary. Inside it feels hollow and fake, none of these interactions fulfilling but I continue doing so every day. The routine is comforting.

By now my apartment is mostly furnished. I bought the biggest bed I could fit through the front door, and it is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on in my entire life. On days when I can’t force myself out of the apartment I stay under it’s covers and pretend to sleep or work on several games I used to play back in secondary school. New clothes fill my closet and potted plants guard several stray corners. I don’t really know what else to do with the space, taking my time filling it up.

Ah, and if anyone asks the family I’m supposed here to be closer to is doing well.

From an outsider’s perspective things look alright. I’ve made tepid friends, work and have fulfilling hobbies. I even went on a date recently with one of the bible study guys but that was disappointing. Still, I only went to, of course, keep busy. If I’m not busy I stay at home, and if I’m at home for more than a few hours I do the thing where I never get out of bed.

It’s funny. By all accounts I should at least realize how lucky I am by now. Instead, I still feel nothing. I keep hoping that’ll change the longer I stay here. After all, it’s only been a couple months. Maybe it’ll be different in a year.


	52. LII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post war update part 2 ft. the Basmans

Friday, February 8th, 2058, Moscow.

A knock on the door disrupts her concentration. Quickly flipping over her tablet Rey sighs and yanks off her glasses.

“Ye?”

“Hey. Can we talk?”

That depends. Steeling herself she slides off her bed and crosses the room, opening the door and matching Maks’ grimace with her own. “There’s nothing to talk about but fine. What do you want?”

Sliding past her he moves inside, shutting the door behind him. This obviously needs to be private. He takes a look around her unkempt room, grimace deepening. “Christian says you keep tapping firewalls. Rey, you’ve gotta stop—it’s compromising us.”

Fucking Christian. Should’ve known he’d say something. Pressing a hip against the wall she shrugs dismissively. “Whatever. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You gotta stop,” Maks warns again, though this isn’t the first time and certainly won’t be his last. Ever since they took refuge here he’s acted like her parole officer, like he knows what’s best. It pisses her off. “I don’t care what you think, you’re gonna expose yourself.”

“Okay,” she replies, insincere like last time. “Whatever. We done?”

He fixes her with an irritated look. “Rey.”

“If it bothers you so much then kick me out,” she snaps, glancing down at the floor. “God—why do you care?”

“Because I do,” he throws back, huffing. “Not letting you act like an idiot—you’re too old for that shit, you know that?”

Her eyes roll, arms crossing. He’s so dramatic sometimes. “Sorry I make you look bad. Must be a real bummer lugging me around.”

“That’s not what this is about—”

“It feels like it is,” she exclaims, getting louder, gaze fixing on him again. “Maks, do whatever the fuck you want, go harass the next official on your list and then the next, but I’ve got my own things to focus on.”

He glowers, one hand resting on a hip. “She’s not even alive. You’re imagining all these coincidences.”

Her jaw ticks angrily and she takes a moment before answering. “Sure. Believe what you want. I don’t care.”

“Then why are you doing this?” he demands, exasperated by now. “Rey, this is bullshit. You’re wasting your time, making _us_ look bad, and for what? Doesn’t matter what you do, it doesn’t change anything.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts, nodding at her door, sick of his misplaced concern. “Get out. I’ll be more careful, alright? Just stay out of my way.”

He leaves more pissed than when he arrived but she truly doesn’t care. There are some things he’ll never understand and she’s not going to start sharing secrets now.

Once the door slams shut her glasses are back on and she grabs her tablet, continuing where she left off. Sofia. It has to be Sofia. Taking Edin elsewhere wouldn’t be conducive but which office? From all the records she’s found there’s at least twenty-five different departments spread through the city and surrounding suburbs, half of which aren’t really operational but which ones those are she can’t narrow down off unsecured records alone.

Perhaps if Christian wasn’t so uninterested she could work him down with some flirting but he won’t crack and won’t let her glance through the more secure channels they have found.

What she does know is Edin was there, and now she’s not. She’s definitely alive though, not dead. That she’s known for months, something that gave her a good amount of hope, reminding her she wasn’t crazy for spending a good amount of free time on this investigation.

Kareem Nazair. That’s the name that now shows up with Edin’s face. Not exactly the farthest throw from Edin’s ethnicity anyway, but where exactly this Kareem is, is the real question. It can’t be coincidental Edin ‘died’ in 2056 then a woman of vaguely the same descent and just a few years younger than Edin magically shows up on the Red’s roster of foreign correspondents. This woman never showed up previously when others did, and when Rey finally finds ID for this woman she knows it’s Edin.

Maks doesn’t get to know though. He never believed her, always said Edin deserved death for her traitorous decisions. She knows he wishes he could believe otherwise but he can’t, unless she tells him the truth, and Edin told her to keep quiet. Tell the truth now and Edin’s ‘death’ was for nothing.

Back on the tablet she bypasses Christian’s safety nets and pushes into the Red’s database again. All sorts of info is in here, everything they could’ve used years ago to tear down the enemy if only they’d figured out how to hack it previously. She gained access through dumb luck, guessing a password for…Devin’s access, and then mining everything he had access to. It was a great breakthrough, one she never thought she’d do had she not been so adamant on getting into it. Then again, when you’re stuck waiting for your arm to heal from reconstructive surgery, you get good at learning all sorts of things.

So Kareem. Kareem, Kareem, Kareem. Why can’t Rey find any evidence of where Edin’s gone? All the other foreign agents she’s been able to track—not Edin. That doesn’t make sense. Well, it does but it isn’t helpful. Agents who’ve already died are listed as such, but not this Kareem. Therefore she’s not dead. She’ll find her. But if she’s going to do that it looks like she’s got to track down Devin.

God, that guy scares her. Still, he’s the only one she can think of who’ll know exactly what’s going on. If that’s the case she’ll head to Sofia.

Ugh, Maks won’t let her go, she already knows it. Throwing him off won’t be hard, it’s just…she won’t be back once she leaves. He’ll have no one left.

But she can’t think about guilt. It’ll be hard but he’ll survive. Maybe one day he’ll eventually go home, maybe it’ll make him appreciate what family they have that’s still alive.

Seriously, he can’t pick and choose what he cares about. It’s not fair.

There’s another knock, this time softer, and Maks doesn’t bother waiting for her. He pokes his head in, making her jump.

“Do you mind!?”

“Rey,” he hisses, frowning.

She slams down her tablet. “What?”

“Think about what you’re doing.”

She’s been doing that. “Um…okay?”

“Really think about it,” he insists, as if she just started this task. “You’re here for a reason. Don’t take that for granted.”

When he slams the door shut she glances down at the tablet, chewing her lower lip. Yeah, she’s definitely here for a reason. That’s why she’s doing what she’s doing.

 

XX Tuesday, April 9th, 2058, Sofia.

The thing about breaking and entering is she’s super good at the entering part, the breaking part not so much. It’d help if her fingers weren’t shaking but that can’t be helped—everyone’s nervous the first time they infiltrate an enemy base where they probably torture and—

“Okay, try it again,” she hisses to herself, taking a deep breath and working on the window lock from another angle. Scaling the building was difficult enough. Getting stuck on a stupid window that may have been painted shut isn’t going to be the end. Hopefully. God, why does the only available window into the office have to be so difficult? This is the only side she could feasibly work her way up to; there are no other alternatives, and whenever she’s glanced down beneath her perch on the windowsill the dark carpark below looks dizzyingly far. Modern warfare games didn’t prepare her for this.

With a little elbow grease the seal finally breaks and the window groans as she quickly pulls it open. Already sweating she takes a moment before swinging inside, gently creeping to solid ground for the first time in hours. All she can think about is getting caught now that she’s in, face nearly touching the floor on her belly crawl toward the stairs. This is the building, an old office nestled on the edge of town, it has to be. Devin circulates to many but this is home base, this is where records are.

Months of planning for this very moment and it’s finally here. Devin shouldn’t be here, not at this hour—she’s planned out everything, determines everyone’s usual shift. Slipping in and out in the dead of night should be easy so long as she doesn’t trip any alarms.

And those are what she stole half of Christian’s tech arsenal for, already looping camera feeds and powering down anything that might get in her way.

There’s never been any info on Edin aside from the initial listing of the other woman who popped up right after her death and just happens to look exactly like her. Given when Rey’s tracked down so far she has to assume anything sensitive is definitely tracked, but it’s on paper. Those papers have to be here. She’s afraid Devin won’t have any, that someone else will, but if that’s the case she’ll scour the entire building for what she wants. Months of narrowing down which department is where has led her to believe this is where they keep sensitive records.

She’s already decided to work from the top down, entering the first room she finds on the top floor and quietly breaking it’s code, slipping right in. It’s rather nondescript, a cramped space filled with racks reaching to the ceiling, each one full of file cabinets. Using a light on her link she creeps in, feeling rather smug. This is exactly the kind of place she wants to drop in on.

Her backpack’s dropped, tablet coming out to verify what kind of files she should be looking for. Personnel, obviously, but they have a specific system for filing, one she’s barely figured out. Still, she has it more figured out than anyone else back in Moscow.

All this time, all these months Maks kept her hidden up there, she’s been studying, learning, soaking up any bit of information she could get. He wanted to join the rebels, not her (though she did agree on the hiding part). He put her in the same unit as a bunch of tech nerds. He’s the one who practically encouraged her search, fucking drinking like a fish and blaming himself for everything.

She gets it, is hyper aware why he can’t do anything, but she can, so she has to. The current fantasy is to find Edin’s location, find her, bitch at her, then draw her away from any danger and lure Maks to the same location. Then she could tell him the truth. Then it wouldn’t be so brutal, he couldn’t hate her if she brought Edin back to him. The fantasy she has always ends with everyone hugging and good vibes all the way, though she knows it likely won’t end that nicely. Long as he doesn’t murder Edin though, she’s fine with anything. He wouldn’t do that. Hopefully.

Ugh, he’d fuck her. Rey knows he would.

Trying to keep quiet she starts rifling through drawers, light focused on each alphabetically organized section. Least only half of it is completely foreign. Her tablet will work out translations later. The first few files she sorts through are useless but she does find information on Devin, reports indicating he has been in the Americas previously, actually did a stint with La Raz a decade ago. Fucking liar. Rage burns in her throat, still easily flowing when she thinks about him.

Working through a few more relevant cabinets she scans what might be useful then heads for the door. Dawn will be here in no time and she still has a whole building to comb through. Back in the hall she verifies which other rooms to hit, hurrying for the stairs and silently climbing down to the next level, heading for another data storage hall. This process repeats for two more levels and she only sees one security guard, hiding behind a potted plant until he disappears in the stairwell. She makes a note to watch for him, moving on without consequence. Each floor descended she knows she’s getting closer, and when she finds Devin’s name plastered next to a door she knows she’s hit the jackpot.

Hopefully.

His office doesn’t even have a secure lock. She picks the standard one easily, slipping in and offering herself a high five as she looks around, adrenaline pumping hard through her veins. This is it. She’s done it.

It’s quiet, muted in here. She cherishes that, works quickly identifying which cabinets to hunt through. It takes some time but eventually her search takes her to his desk—locked, of course. She breaks that lock just as easily, yanking open the first drawer, light shining down on terribly unorganized files: yep, these are Devin’s. She knows it. He’s never been one to clean his own space, either.

Her fingers hurry through file after file, coming up empty-handed. It’s on to the next drawer, then the next. At last, tucked away near the very bottom she pulls out a stained file—Kareem Nazair, PRC.

PRC, PRC…come on, think harder. She knows this, she has to.

“China?” she mumbles, frowning and flipping open the file. “Edin’s not—why would they…?

She trails off once her fingers shakily trace over the first page. There’s Edin’s face. They’re playing up her heritage, distancing her from anything familiar. But, is she alive? She thinks so, hopes so, and a harried glance through several more pages verifies she is—she’s sent back recent reports on various individuals in Hong Kong.

Her heart beats madly, elation building. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Edin’s alive and in Hong Kong. That’s not that far. Well, it is all kinds of secure down there but she could travel there with ease, get some ID and start burning cash from Maks. Holy fuck, Edin’s alive, and she knows where.

In the back of the file there seems to be what looks like addresses but it’s in Cantonese. She scans that page and Edin’s picture, reads through a handful of handwritten and faxed reports, smiling involuntarily over Edin’s sloppy writing. Holy fuck, she’s alive. Rey’s never been so happy in her life—she can’t wait to throw this in Maks’ face.

Hurrying, she takes the entire folder and jams it in her backpack, preparing to get the hell out of here. This was all she needed.

She stalks back into the hall, making a beeline for the stairs. It’s much easier backtracking until she reaches the lone stairwell—hushed voices echo from above. Softly shutting the door behind her she contemplates heading down, deeper into the building but she knows she’ll run into more security there. Hmm. There’s a proper rooftop escape but that still requires going up, and…this is the only way up or down. Fuck. Hiding might not be a good idea, either, but it might be her only option for now.

Carefully climbing up to the next level she sneaks out onto the floor, scurrying around a corner and—

Slams right into someone, their ‘oof’ her only real indication. Lurching backward she twists for the stairs, only to be caught in the worst way, someone tackling her via the legs as they dive for her. Both crash to the ground, a man yelling at her in foreign words and herself angrily grunting as she looks for her pistol. It’s whipped out from her hip holster and she shifts violently, wrenching out of her attacker’s grip. Pushing away her boots squeak like mad on the floor, everything a blur of motion until she’s far enough away to see straight.

Now she gets a good look at him, vaguely recognizing him from him some of Devin’s pictures. Her first instinct is to kick but she ignores it, uses her weapon instead. She’s always been a piss poor shot and misses, scares and sends him rolling while her ears ring uncontrollably.

He must be more used to it however, scrambling to his feet the second he knows he’s fine. He collapses on her in an instant, wrestling to get the gun. She ignores his breathless barking, focuses on doing what she came here for, biting where she can.

It’s not effective. He pins her down, heavy hands gripping her limbs and keeping her still. Chest heaving he looks her over, furious words slowing to nothing. It’s clear he also recognizes her, but she can tell he’s not sure from where. At least now he tries something she might understand.

“The fuck you doing here?” he asks, unsure of himself all the sudden. “Thought I— _no_.”

Whatever revelation he’s having she doesn’t want to hear it, struggling futilely in his hold, spitting foreign words right back in his face. It makes him smirk, something definitely coming back to him.

“Couple years too late for help, sweetheart.”

He’s kneed in the groin for that. While he’s distracted she yanks free, claws out from beneath him and retrieves her pistol, swinging it’s aim back to him.

“Get off me, motherfucker,” she demands, forcing him to scoot back a bit. When he’s on his butt she moves back as well, better lining up her aim. Her head shakes, warning him not to do anything stupid. “Doesn’t need to end bad. I just need out.”

He doesn’t consider. Bringing his wrist up he mumbles to his link. She can’t let him do that and fires again, nails him in the stomach and chest as the hall reverberates from the noise. It doesn’t kill him dead though; he flops forward, color draining from his face as he gasps in pain. Shit, the color’s draining from her face, too—she’s never shot anyone before, let alone tried murdering them. She expected him to drop instantly, not keep…

“Oh my God,” she whispers, quivering, mind spinning. “Oh my God, what do I—”

He’s still crying into his link, slurring for help. Terrified of getting close she wobbles to her feet, running back to the stairwell, forgetting she heard voices earlier. She can’t stop thinking about what she just did, limbs sickly tingling as she pushes into the small tube.

She doesn’t get far. Climbing to the next level she’s in such a daze she doesn’t realize she’s surrounded until it’s too late. People in dark security uniforms prevent her from going further, their own rifles trained on her, and from below she can hear more thunderous footsteps. Too overwhelmed to think straight she pauses, twisting anxiously on her step, trying to figure a way out of this mess.

Fuck, there isn’t.

They’re shouting at her to drop her weapon. Scared, she does, letting the pistol clatter to the metal step. Her hands go up, and thankfully as she’s raising them she has an idea.

“Send all, home,” she whispers to her link, words barely audible in all the noise around her. It dings softly, and she continues raising her arms. More people shout and she freezes more, couldn’t escape even if she tried. Fear’s never shut her up though and she offers those closest to her a dilated sneer.

“Picked the wrong fucking night to break in, didn’t I?”


	53. LIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post war updates part 3 ft. the Basmans and goddamn Rey I think you really set Devin off with your fuckery.

Wednesday, April 10th, 2058, Moscow.

Blue light keeps dancing on the ceiling, accompanying the annoying buzz on his desk. Having ignored it for several minutes he’s finally had enough, grouchily rousing from bed. Lumbering to his desk he snatches up his link and brings it close, willing his eyes to focus on the small screen. A dozen messages are trickling in from Rey, all of them recent, many containing large files. Pictures.

Relieved as he is to hear from her Maks doesn’t find this funny, immediately sending a response but, like the last week, it results in rejection. She slipped away without a word, without any indication of where or what she was doing. He wanted to follow her, wanted to track her down but there’s been no valid trail until…now. It puzzles him. How’s she sending things out when he can’t even connect with her?

A final message pushes through, a picture he recognizes without even trying. Tired as he is his jaw goes loose, unblinking while he stares.

“Edin.”

There’s no denying it. Finding himself jolted wide awake he begins flicking through Rey’s other messages, surprised with each new bit of information. Names, dates, locations…

“Holy fuck, she was right,” he whispers, dumbfounded. He has to sit down, hardly able to believe what he’s seeing. Everything…everything Rey said was true. Swiping back to Edin’s picture he stares at it longer than necessary but it can’t be helped. Already he’s making tentative plans, wondering if he should even wait for Rey to tell her what he’s thinking of doing.

But he’ll wait. He knows she wouldn’t share this with him without reason, knows she’d never share anything if she could. He’ll wait to see what she has to say, then he’ll do what he wants anyway.

For now, however, he can’t help the stupid smile pulling across his lips, damn proud of Rey for finding Edin. He’ll kill her for what she did, but he’ll certainly give her a piece of his mind first.

 

XX Wednesday, April 10th, 2058, Sofia.

The door slams, quick steps echoing on the cold concrete. Glancing over her shoulder Rey swallows her fear and braces for the worst. Her captors were more than willing to share how much trouble she was in on the way to this cell, wherever it is. It’s got to be close; they weren’t in a van for long. She’s sure they’re right but she _thinks_ she’s got everything taken care of. Besides, she has to remember she knew this would likely occur. Fantasy or not she did involve herself with these people.

Devin steps in front of her, arms crossed, fuming. He’s shaking, even. She lowers her gaze, unsure how to move forward. He was supposed to be pissed, sure, but she expected a little sadism from him. Not this…angry stare.

Finally he utters a sharp, bitter laugh, eyes darting to the ceiling. “You motherfucking cunt. Do you know what you did?”

Now is not the time to beg for forgiveness. She knows she’s not coming out of this alive. Rey’s lip curls, offering him her most petulant look.

“Nice to see you, too.”

Her chair is abruptly kicked over, and she finds herself looking at the spinning ceiling, chest aching from his boot. Goddamn, she knows she deserves it but she can’t not let out a hiss, anger rising. Fuck Devin. Fuck Devin and all these people, they’re the ones who betrayed _her_ , not the other way around.

“Don’t give me an attitude,” he snaps, voice quivering. Still reeling it takes her a second to recognize he’s more upset than anything to have her here. “I don’t want to hear it. Do you know what you did earlier? Huh?”

She did a lot of things so she’s not quite sure which one he means. When he comes to hover over her she does realize he’s incredibly pissed. Fuck, was it killing that guy? Did she even kill him? He was still breathing when she abandoned him. God, she can’t believe she did that.

She can’t help giving the stupidest answers. “Enlighten me.”

He’s a ruthless kicker, intent on using her being tied down to his advantage. It works well and Rey can’t help yelping each time he connects with flesh and bone.

“You think this is funny?” he demands, voice rising. “Think it’s cute coming in here, murdering my people? You really want to play that? Don’t fuck with me, Rey—I’ll fucking tear your goddamn eyeballs out if that’s how you wanna do this. Tell me what the fuck you killed him for.”

When she doesn’t have an answer he just repeats himself louder, words cracking with intensity. Recovering from his assault Rey’s mind spins in a panic, spiraling beyond her control. She doesn’t know. She was afraid, thought he was going to hurt her. Every aching bone in her body knows that’s not a good reason to shoot someone but she was in the moment and scared and…it was a better option than not doing it. That’s not an acceptable answer, unfortunately.

Since she won’t talk he kicks her again, succeeding in flipping the chair and cracking something, which makes her howl. He howls back, mocking her.

“That hurt, love? Good! I fucking hope it does. That was my friend, Rey. _Mine_. Thought you were all about peace. What the fuck was that for?”

She can’t behave, she really can’t not when he’s attacking _her_ morals. Spitting up blood she thrashes, struggling to free herself.

“Just did what you said you did to my friend.”

Devin’s demeanor changes, growing cold, hardened in a flash. He swiftly moves to her front, crouching before her, hands clasped between his knees. Studying her a moment with bright blue, intent eyes he appears to have some sort of revelation. A hand calmly reaches down, grasping her hair tight and pulling her head up.

“I was so, _so_ nice to your friend,” he whispers, lips twitching in a sneer. “Could’ve killed her, love, but she chose to work for us. She did what it took to live. You know who had her do that? That’s right, love, the man you just killed. He thought she’d be useful. _He_ was generous. I don’t think I’ll be like that with you.”

Shoving her head back he rises, walks across the small cell and paces several circles. Eyes shut, Rey listens to him rummage around for something.

“Let me tell you something,” he softly starts, steps coming closer, a metallic click echoing through the room. “I was…such a good advocate for your friend, we all were. I made sure she stayed alive, made sure to give her a good assignment. Rey, she gave you up years ago. You go running after her and I guarantee not only would we get to you first, but we’d put her down, too. Why not? You saw her reports. She’s of no real use to usbut I was good on my word. I gave her mercy and everything she needed to start over. I even…even left your name out of this because _that’s_ what she was afraid of. So, love, all you’ve accomplished in coming here, in inserting yourself where you don’t belong, is destroy what little sympathy I had for her—for _you_. What do you have to say for yourself now?”

Nothing. She’s panicking, sure she knows what’s about to happen, anticipating it actually. But she’s done what she could, sent information off as quickly as she could and shut down her link on the way to Devin.

“Fuck you.”

He doesn’t find that funny, decides she’s not worth his time and pulls the trigger.


	54. LIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second phase of the plan commences. TW-some torture and violence. Please understand this story isn't about redemption but rather revenge.

Monday, March 24th, 2059, Sofia.

Murmuring. It doesn’t sound Bulgarian or Russian, or anything I’ve heard before. Chin on my chest I stay still, try to groggily feel out my environment first.

I’m dangling from something, wrists clasped together high overhead. They’re a little loose, my hands numb from where they uncomfortably fit together. My shoulders ache, indicating I’ve been here a while, and my boots aren’t touching anything, I think.

Fantastic way to wake up.

Unable to help it I moan in pain and stretch my neck, opening bleary eyes—the murmuring ceases at the same time. I’m not incredibly surprised to find Devin’s back several meters in front of me, both of us stuck inside a large, sterile room. He’s dressed in a business suit, looks a bit bulkier than I recall. Age seems to do that. A quick look to several small windows indicates it’s already dark out but who knows where this is? We could be anywhere.

If I’m back in prison I’m going to scream.

Yet I find myself doing that regardless soon as I get enough air in my lungs, anger taking over. “Liar! You fucking lied!”

When he turns around he offers an incredulous look, lip curled in disdain.

“Excuse me? Start again, love—you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve coming back here. What the fuck were you thinking? Who’s working—?”

“You lied to me!” I shout over him, swinging angrily on a hook. They really enjoy their hooks. I don’t care about why I’m here, don’t have time to answer his questions. “You swore you’d leave her alone. I’m so fucking—I swear to God I’m gonna kill you.”

He flashes his teeth, teasingly stepping forward. There’s no way I can do that while tied up and we both know it.

“Really now? Much as I’d love seeing you try I don’t think you’re in a position to make threats. Tell me who brought you here.”

If he thought I’d do anything besides spit at him he’s an idiot. Unfortunately I miss and his fist does not, connecting real easy with my gut. Once the shock wears off I take a breath and resume my berating.

“You motherfucking cunt, I’ll fucking destroy you if I get down. Why the fuck would you kill her? You had me!”

Devin watches my struggling, taking a moment to think. He clearly needs a refresher. “Who…you mean the girl? Rey?”

“Why the fuck would I come back otherwise?” I try kicking at him but my leg doesn’t reach. “You fucking killed her! You swore you’d leave her alone!”

Still smirking he swaggers close, grabbing my legs and pulling on them. My back screams under pressure but I keep it inside, pretend it doesn’t hurt.

“She came to me, love,” he explains as if it wasn’t his problem. “Made a mess at one of our offices, even took out a friend of mine. Honestly didn’t think she had it in her but I guess she had her reasons. Still didn’t appreciate the visit.”

Humming to distract myself I look up, try and figure out how I could possibly free myself. It doesn’t look promising but if I could move one hand just right…fuck, I’d need more leverage. He needs to pull harder.

“I know you didn’t make it here on your own,” he informs me, doing just as I wish, grip tightening and yanking me harder. “Been missing for a week or two now, ye? Come on, I know you’re not that smart. Who got you out of Hong Kong?” Baring down he makes me whine, then adds, “Last time you were here I was pretty merciful, love. Don’t think I’m gonna be forgiving this go around. Honestly, this is embarrassing. All my sups said you’d turn but I believed in you. Who told you Rey was dead? Hm? Last I checked you didn’t have access to that kind of information.”

Crying now I try bucking him away but it doesn’t work. I don’t care what he’s asking. That has nothing to do with me. “I wouldn’t have done anything without her— _anything_. I did everything you asked to keep her safe but she comes up once and you kill her? Fuck you, Devin. You don’t get both!”

“But I did,” he argues, letting up and stepping back, watching me sag. My wrists twitch; I can feel my bonds, they’re weaker. “I did, love. She had no one but herself to blame, don’t pretend she was a saint. I never asked her to get involved with me—she’s the one who kept going, kept giving me everything we needed to know. She could’ve stopped anytime she wanted but didn’t, and then she couldn’t handle the consequences. That’s not my problem—well, it became yours but never mine.”

He can’t expect I’ll take that and I don’t, launching into a generous speech about what a dick he is. “You led her on, don’t fucking tell me you did nothing—you knew what you were doing! Holy fuck I’m gonna kill you. Let me down and let’s see how fucking brave you are.”

“You can’t hurt me,” he denies, still studying me. “Barely look like you could hurt a fly these days.” My foot nearly catches him for that but he laughs and ambles behind his desk. “Fight all you want, love. I’d do the same. You know where you’re going after this.”

“Liar!” I scream, wiggling hard as I can and shouting epithets. “You swore! I put up with your fucking bullshit— _all_ of it! If I’d known you didn’t fucking care I would’ve never gone along with it.”

“Of course,” he answers, as if that’s obvious. “I don’t blame you, love, but that’s not my problem. You didn’t have to take her place, could’ve let her go on her own—”

“Shut up!” I seethe, unwilling to talk about it. My hips swing, trying to gain traction. The bindings are getting looser. “I don’t fucking care, I wish you were dead. All you had to do— _all_ you needed to do was turn her away.”

“Why would I do that?” he demands, not as calm anymore and rounding back to the front of his desk. “Hm? Let me tell you what happened with her. She’s the one who broke in, started rifling through sensitive information, started shooting at _us_. We arrested her near immediately, figured she’d done enough damage. Had her brought in for questioning, she wouldn’t talk, not even to me, so…what do you do with something useless? We sent her body back to who knows where. I hope they took it as a warning.”

I go quiet, brow lowered as I stare at the floor. I hate him. He steps closer, not done.

“Least I gave you a chance, ye? You think you fooled us? Think we believed all that bullshit about wanting to do right? Love, you’re more of an idiot than she was.”

“It worked enough to get you to do what I wanted,” I throw back, offering a haughty smirk. It’s knocked off my face with another punch, Devin good on his superiority. It hurts much more than I recall but then again I’m out of practice. Becoming someone’s punching bag wasn’t my intention today and it wouldn’t have happened if I’d come in coherent. I could’ve been the one wailing on him right now, not whimpering while he angrily smashes fists into me.

He pauses mid assault, catching his breath and pacing to his desk once more, my whining filling the office. Wiping at his brow he gathers something from the desktop, glowering at it. “Here’s the thing, love. Yell all you’d like, it doesn’t change a damn thing. Rey came to me and fucked herself over. I can’t take that back and I wouldn’t—she had it coming. Now, you? I thought you were pretty stupid when you showed up but the longer we held you the clearer your motive became—you just wanted to stall us. So…I know you didn’t make it here on your own. You’re not that clever. Go ahead and deny it but I guarantee I won’t be so forgiving this time. Tell me who brought you here or you don’t leave this room.”

He says this like it’ll scare me. It does, but I expected it. Spitting blood I take a moment before fixing my wobbly vision on him. It’s like he doesn’t understand the kind of determination it takes to put up with the shit I’ve seen.

“You really think I’m gonna tell you?”

“You want to live?”

It’s debatable at this point. So long as he gets what he deserves I don’t care. Squeezing bones together one hand slips from it’s bindings, the other ripping away next and me landing on the floor a second later with a loud thud. The look that crosses his face is priceless. He’s shocked, I know he is, but I know I can’t handle him, either. There’s nothing I can say that’d change his mind so the second I’m on my feet I turn and bolt for the door.

I push into the hall, ignoring the blood flowing back to my limbs and making a hard right. Honestly I have no idea where I’m going but I need to put some distance between Devin and myself. It’s a miracle no one’s in the hall and I use that to my advantage, pushing fast as I can go—I don’t need to look back to know who’s steps follow me. Maks’ team wanted a distraction? Guess they got it.

Breath coming in quick gasps I tear down the corridor, adrenaline fueling my panicked rush. This is like my nightmares, the scenery whizzing by nearly identical. I’m surprised Devin hasn’t tried shooting me yet. I would if I were him.

We take another right, our boots squeaking along polished floor, into a new hall that looks the same as the last. I zigzag where I can, desperate to keep one step ahead of him but he’s fast. He nearly catches me at the end but I fool him, pretending to pause at one door then backtracking for the one indicating the stairs. I crash inside and start pounding down a set of metal steps, his figure feverishly trailing.

He catches me at the first landing, both of us tumbling down to the next level in a tangled mess. I’m pulling and scratching at whatever I can, him doing his best to envelope and grab me tight. I bite at limbs, whichever’s closest, and by the time we hit the landing he lets go, hissing in pain. Good. Jumping to my feet I push through the next floor’s door, blood pumping hard as I careen down another sterile hall.

The only difference is this one’s strewn with bodies. Never missing a beat I pick my way across the floor, trying to avoid blood. Devin’s not nearly as eager, lethally growling on his link while he takes a knee near the closest body. At first I think I’m going to finally get ahead but it occurs to me we’re hovering over an essential minefield.

While he’s busy my gaze darts from body to body until I find someone in a uniform, pushing to them in an instant. By the time Devin notices and shouts at me to stop my hands have already yanked a handgun from this corpse and suddenly it’s aimed at him. Suddenly my plan’s reached it’s conclusion at an alarming speed.

He goes quiet, as do I. The whole hall becomes one silent stretch save for our breath.

He didn’t expect this today, I suddenly realize, all dressed up and no weapon to threaten me with. There could be back up on the way, I could be gone in an instant but I have to smile to myself for one triumphant moment, enjoying the look of utter revelation scrawled across his face.

I have him scared.

“You want to live?” I ask, the words so familiar. Devin stares at me, face hardening. He leans back, jaw ticking, aware he’s in no position to argue. To answer would be beneath him. I have to antagonize him now.

“You have kids?” I inquire, sadistic revenge getting the better of me, making me brave. “Any family? Ever tell them what you do?”

He still says nothing. I don’t care, carefully rising to my feet and ensuring I’m aimed at him. He never moves even when I creep closer.

“Rey had family, too, Devin. Did you think about that? Do you ever?”

His silence continues so I answer for him with my own assumptions. If he didn’t care then neither do I. We will all face consequences for our actions.

Several sharp cracks echo down the hall and he drops immediately, face and skull a mess. I didn’t spend all that time in Hong Kong perfecting headshots in games for nothing, didn’t keep memories from Bogota buried in the back of my head for nothing. Had he kept his word I wouldn’t have come here and done this.

Had he kept his word Rey would still be alive.

Even though my heart rate’s immensely lowered I force myself to stay vigilant, turn and survey what’s down the rest of the hall—several more bodies. Looking at them is both sickening, yet placating. This is what we came to do, after all. Picking through nearby corpses I search for extra ammunition but don’t find much. I salvage what I can anyway and start moving, shakily trotting down the hall quickly as I can and pretend Devin’s corpse isn’t behind me.

He’s dead. I did it. I killed him, avenged Rey before her brother could learn the…truth. Looking down at my bloodied jacket I curse and turn around, retracing my steps. The jacket’s thrown off, left to rot with everything else. Ignoring blood and gore I head back for the stairs, unsure where to go besides back to Devin’s office. If there are already so many dead then I can’t imagine the rest of the building has held up well, but I feel compelled to go back. What if there’s any information on Rey upstairs?

My body develops a calm hum on the way back to his office, both the stairs and the next hall empty and eerily silent. I’m not sure how I feel any longer. I thought I’d be relieved he’s dead but I just…I can’t even focus on him. This, I know, is guilt.

But I can’t feel guilt when I know he screwed Rey over. He could’ve kept her alive, he just didn’t want to. Guess I didn’t want to keep him alive, either.

When I turn the last corner I see Catherine loping in my direction. She looks worse for wear, wounded in several places but still managing. I don’t give her time to understand what I’m doing here, waste the last of my bullets on her, her body clattering to the ground. This time the reaction is minimal, more like a dream than something that actually happened. Everything’s becoming dreamlike, as if I’m not the one doing any of this. I stare at her for a moment, calm deepening. Of all the people on Devin’s team she was the worst. She doesn’t matter now.

Forgetting her writhing figure I cautiously pass to the door I recently escaped from. No one’s inside and it occurs to me she was probably trying to make it here, likely trying to warn Devin of things happening elsewhere. I enter instead, dropping the gun and rounding to Devin’s desk. I don’t know what I’m truly looking but for my hands involuntarily shove open drawers and rifle through countless stacks of paper. What, am I expecting a file with Rey’s name on it? Maybe. I don’t know. He barely even knew what I was talking about when I first showed up.

To him Rey was just a project, not even someone worth remembering.

I stop when I can’t see straight, falling back into his chair and angrily wiping at my cheeks, venom turning on myself. Fuck. I killed him without even making him understand what he’d done, did the same with Catherine. That’s two more lives taken than necessary, for reasons I can’t justify. It couldn’t be helped, that’s all I know. I needed someone to pay, someone to understand you can’t manipulate someone I loved and think it’d turn out alright.

That’s not logic I would’ve come up with on my own and I know it. I’m sorry, Rey. I played right into your brother’s hands, let him consume my emotions and…damn, I didn’t even help, _I_ did it. Fucking A, she was right about him. She just never believed I could be as fucked up as him.

What do I do now? I didn’t expect to get this far. Do I wait for the remnants of Devin’s team to find me? There’s nothing else left, really.

The door bangs open without warning, Maks lowering his own rifle once he’s sure it’s just me. He does a sweep of the room regardless, making a complete circle before rounding to me. I watch him do so, aware he looks horrible, dark clothes covered in matter I don’t want to identify. Watching the door he makes an imposing figure in front of me, back filling with each breath. He’s clearly seen Catherine so naturally he wants to know about Devin.

“Where is he?” Nothing comes out when I open my mouth, forcing him to twist around and ask again. “Edin, where is he?”

“Downstairs—in the hall,” I choke out, watching his back go rigid.

“I told you I’d take care of him,” he tells me but I’m not offering an explanation. My grunt is all he gets.

Lowering his rifle he turns in full, looking at me like he’s never actually seen me before. Maybe he never did. Maybe I really pulled off looking like an innocent bitch capable of nothing. I know what he wants to say now, so my eyes focus on my dirty lap. Everything about me is terribly calm, waiting to be set off again.

While he works up the courage to say something his gaze travels from my bruised lips downward, tallying up any damage. It’s as if he didn’t realize I would be hurt, like I was going to turn on them and he’d need to put me down. Perhaps drugging me was for the best, a way for him to keep me in the fight but out of their business. A way to keep pretending I had nothing to do with this.

“He…Rey was speaking to him?” he finally asks, voice strangled. He didn’t want to say it, either. Now I feel like Devin, jaw tight and refusing to acknowledge the question. Fist banging on the desk he barks the same accusation but I flinch and keep my mouth shut in an ugly sneer. I know he heard, don’t care. What’s done is done.

He hits the desk a couple more times before forcing himself to take a step back, breaths heavy. “Don’t fucking lie to me— _tell me_. Was it her? Was she the one who gave them information? I swear to God I’ll leave you here if you don’t fucking—.”

Breaking off he looks up at the ceiling, skin flushed. It’s an unsettling look on him. “Christ. That’s why she looked for you.”

“I didn’t ask her to,” I snap, unable to keep it inside. “I told her it’d be fine, told her to go.”

“And you thought she’d listen?” he balks, back to shouting. “You thought she’d—?”

“You wanted her here then?” I goad, glaring in his direction. “You wanted her getting hurt? Questioned by these fuckers?”

That shuts him up, gets him thinking. His gaze returns to the floor and we’re both quiet again. Whether or not he believes what he just heard is up to him. Wiping at my face again I look to the dark windows.

“I never wanted you thinking she’d do it,” I softly confess, chin dropping. “She didn’t—didn’t know what she got herself into.”

Watching me a moment Maks remains quiet, nostrils flared. He’s in his own thoughts, my words useless. It feels as if time’s stopped, both of us doing nothing, the office completely silent. There are a lot of things I know he wants to scream about right now, things he can’t even begin to comprehend.

Then he shifts on his feet, looks to the door and back to me. A hand rests on one hip then the other, ending in him slowly stepping toward me. He clearly doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to believe.

But he reaches out and pulls me to my feet anyway, heading for the door.

“I’m gonna chase you down the hall,” he whispers to me, voice ridiculously calm for what he just said. When I glance up he’s not looking back, focusing on what’s in front of us. “You’re gonna run down the stairs, cross the lobby, leave the same way you came in. If you see anyone you need to scream—I’ll shoot, alright?”

We’re at the door. He’s paused in front of it, one hand on the handle, the other squeezing my wrist. When I don’t answer he glances down.

“Alright?”

“Ye,” I murmur, nodding this time. It sounds so stupid. Why can’t we walk right out? But, I suppose I would make a good enough distraction in order for him to neutralize any threats. “Okay.”

“Good.” His fingers tighten on the handle. “When you get outside head away from the garage, down the alley. There shouldn’t be anyone there but if there is—”

“I’ll let you know,” I finish for him, taking a deep breath, preparing myself. I can do this. Forget about what just happened, pretend this is a game. He’s asking me to make it one anyway. Opening the door a smidge he peers out, checking to ensure it’s clear, and then nods to me.

“Hurry.”

We don’t say anything else to one another. I simply slip around him and out into the hall, bolting to the right and for the stairs. Seconds later I can hear his boots behind me, both our steps thunderous. Aside from us it’s deathly quiet in the building, an indication they’ve done exactly as they set out to accomplish, leaving plenty of dead in their wake. I never paid attention to the plan past arriving, always assumed I’d be dead by now.

Instead I’m slamming through to the stairs, heart hammering in my chest as I swing down each landing in a blur of metal steps, more bodies on the lower landings, and blood. My mind can’t process everything, telling me to ignore what I can for now and keep going. Maks is hot on my heels the entire time, essentially herding me down the steps and yelling at me to stop despite pushing me several times when I’m not fast enough. I don’t question what we’re doing this for, assume it’s part of the plan. Part of me knows I should be guilty about even going along with it, the rest…the rest is just relieved it’s almost over. Long as we get out of here it _should_ be over.

In the lobby our boots squeak past the receptionist’s desk, her seat empty, body nowhere in sight. Aside from his chasing me it almost feels lackluster compared to the buildup of coming in here. No one’s here anymore, no one alive anyway. I can only imagine both Ngo and Wulf made an excellent team, taking out anyone who happened to get in their way. Maks obviously did the same, and Christian’s supposed to be interfering with surveillance from what I recall. Where the other three are is a mystery to me, likely something I’ll never figure out until we regroup.

At this point however none of that matters. I dash to the side entrance, hitting the door at full speed and popping out a second later in the cold, night air. It burns my overworked lungs but I still say nothing, obediently following his directions. I make a left turn and jog down the small side street to another alley behind the Red’s office. At this point Maks overtakes my lead, grabbing and pulling me fast as he can across the street. Several older motorbikes and a few cars are parked in a lot on the other side. Giving my hand a harried squeeze he leads me to one of the bikes, producing keys from his utility pants. After strapping his rifle down to the back he mumbles in his link. It’s unceremoniously tossed to the ground seconds later, his boot stomping on it. I numbly stand to the side through the entire spectacle, shivering and wondering if I should feel more exhilarated or…something, anything.

Honestly I just want out of here. Gone.

Once he’s settled on the bike he indicates I hop on behind him. I gingerly do so, hands wrapping around his waist, pretending he’s clean. He kicks the stand up and gets the bike going, then his back hunches, head lowered. Twisting to his left he glances over his shoulder, subtly eyeing me.

“We…can’t go back to the warehouse,” he quietly asserts, swallowing in between. “But I know somewhere we can lie low before we get out of here.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. I can feel my arms constricting around him and I press myself against his back. A soft noise leaves his mouth.

“Edin…”

“We’ll talk about it later,” I assure, holding on tight.

“Thank you,” he sighs, revving the engine. Ensuring I won’t fly off he pushes the bike out of it’s parking, slowly gliding down the alley. In a matter of seconds we emerge onto a main street, Maks zipping through lanes and putting as much distance as he can between us and the office. I glue myself to him, eyes shutting and pretending we’re not even in Sofia. The cool air feels good, refreshing even and subduing my paranoia.

It doesn’t distract me from the fact Devin’s dead. He keeps appearing in my mind. I keep seeing his body falling to the floor, and it makes me wonder what he was thinking. He had to be afraid, I know he was. I hope he understood what it felt like for Rey.

We careen through stoplights, Maks never once stopping and only increasing speed once he manages to find a highway. By the time we’re on that it’s like we’ve been cut loose, freely vanishing away from Sofia and into the night. Devin, Catherine, and a whole slew of others who’d committed wrongs in the name of war are dead, and it looks like we’ll be getting away with it so long as we keep moving.

On the freeway I don’t think I can hold on to him any tighter, struggling to keep tears at bay, wind whipping my hair every which way. I know what we did doesn’t change the fact Rey’s never coming back. I never wanted her to meet Devin again but she did anyway, still managed to get herself into trouble because she wanted to find me. She cared about me to the bitter end.

Even though it doesn’t change anything, I don’t think I could’ve gone on without at least trying to track down those that’d hurt her. I thank God for the opportunity I was given, and hope it can be forgiven.

If not, I’m okay with that.


	55. LV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little post-war bit from Maks' POV. He's very conflicted.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2059, Hong Kong.

 

Striding down the street he keeps his eyes peeled for the sign he needs, hands jammed in both pockets. The address on file wasn’t correct so the past few days have been a hellish hunt through the city’s grid, frustration growing with each new day.

He wishes Rey came here instead of him. Wishes she’d been the one to do the rest of the legwork, not him. But she’s not alive any longer and the fact she gave him all this information, without any kind of explanation, kills him. There had to be a reason, and the only one he can figure is she still believed Edin was innocent.

He doesn’t care about that. He wants to tell her she got his sister murdered, then fucking tear her apart. Eye for an eye.

Over the Moon cafe. He spots it from across the street, studies it’s old sign and windows a moment. It’s almost like magic, his eyes instantly honing in on the blurred figure of some girl manning the counter. His heart knows it’s her, pulse picking up like mad. It’s her. It’s fucking her.

Part of him wants to barge in and blast her goddamn face off—the rest knows he shouldn’t make a scene. It’s the wrong city to be doing that kind of shit. Shifting his sunglasses he slips back on the sidewalk and leans against the building opposite the cafe, gaze glued to her subtle movements. It feels so…weird, watching her. His body’s numb with anticipation, desire for all kinds of violent things moving through his subconscious. They loop endlessly, working him up, convincing himself this’ll be it. He’ll have his vengeance, soon.

He waits across the street for what feels like hours, a warm pink settling over the city at dusk. She leaves the cafe just a little after six, waving goodbye to coworkers and popping outside, one hand naturally curled over a purse. He becomes bitter as he watches her meander down the other sidewalk. There’s no urgency in her movement, a lack of awareness hanging over her like a raincloud.

Following is almost too easy. She only stops once at a grocery store, in her own world looking at vegetables. He gets so close they’re back to back for one blessed moment. Fresh ground coffee wafts off her, reminds him of home, of years he hasn’t thought about in forever. It nearly breaks his resolve—he wants to say something but doesn’t, managing to walk away for now. Why isn’t he doing anything? He wants her dead, wants her to feel what Rey felt. But…Rey insisted she was innocent. Insisted there was a reason she took the blame.

He angrily determines he’ll find out what it was before killing her. Maybe she’ll struggle. He’d…love that. Any reason to touch her, just a little. He wants to touch her. She looks better than he remembers, healthier, softer, less stressed. He’d like to grab that ass hiding beneath packed jeans but not here. No. No, he wants to surprise her in private. Ruin her life like she did theirs. This is all kinds of fucked up. He moves away before he can do anything of the sort.

When she’s done paying he trails her several more blocks, paying keen attention to both her backside and street signs. She’s going home. He keeps far back as he can go, careful to keep out of her sight. When she heads inside a tall skyscraper he notes the location, then dives into a park just across the street for an evening stroll. He’ll watch for her tomorrow and ensure this is her home, verify she works regularly at the cafe. It may take several more days until he can take action but for now he’s pleased with himself.

Rey managed to get him to this point. In her honor he’ll ask the bare minimum of what he knows she’d want to know. Then he’ll make Edin pay.

 

XX Thursday, March 13th, 2059, Hong Kong

It doesn’t work out like he thought it would. Getting inside her building, schmoozing the receptionist, even climbing up the stairs to her level was easy. He spends some time outside her door however, all kinds of nervous thoughts running through his head. After watching her for a week his convictions have changed. By the time he slinks into her apartment (she almost asked for it, not even bothering to lock the door) he’s greatly doubted his intentions. His entire plan is different, constantly shifting like his mood.

Her apartment, he immediately notices, is beautiful which angers him, yet when he first caught sight of her passed out, face down on the bed he decided it suited her.

And then he hunched by the fucking door for another hour like a coward, torn between shooting her point blank or waiting for her to wake up. Her alarm goes off before he could make a choice, slowly abandoning her bed after checking her phone. All the things he resolved to do went out the window when she took off her clothes. When she enters the washroom and he checks her phone he sees she knows he’s here. She always has been perceptive. It pisses him off knowing she’s just waiting for him now.

When he barges into the washroom it’s like he can’t think straight anymore, everything flooding his mind _not_ what he wants to shout at her…soft, supple body. Anger, lust, guilt and disgust pull at him, cloud his judgment, rendering him weak. He wants her so bad, aching from the inside out, forgetting all about her wrongdoings despite constantly reminding himself Rey’s dead because of her.

He tries to focus, tries to force himself to show her he’s not joking, demands to know why she did it and even then he’s too weak, letting up when she complains, automatically unwilling to hurt her. Not like that. God, he hates her so much. He hates she’s just as goddamned secretive as Rey, hates how politely uncooperative she is, hates…that he loves how good her pussy feels. He hates knowing she’s aware sex is her most powerful weapon against him.

He hates he ever thought he could resist.


	56. LVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...they needed to fuck again. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Also some revelations.

Tuesday, March 25th, 2058, Sofia.

“Stand back.”

I do, numbly watching Maks elbow through the glass pane of an old door. He shakes shards off his jacket then reaches through the hole he’s created, working the lock and pushing the door in.

We enter an abandoned shop seconds later through it’s back, him taking the lead and bringing our bike with. Resting it near the door he then does a quick search of the place, ensuring it’s truly abandoned. It is.

First things first he removes his jacket and strips off his pants, looking in the small pack he brought along for new clothes. I sit down on an overturned box and let myself relax, thoughts in every which direction. He didn’t bring anything for me—didn’t expect I’d be alive, either.

No matter what he said I knew he didn’t believe it. We’re both liars.

“Feel alright?” he wonders, searching shelves for anything useful. In the dark I can’t really tell what he’s feeling, his voice severely neutral. I offer a soft ‘yes’ and stare at my hands. It’d be nice to wash up but that’s not an option.

He has that covered, finding an old liter jug of water. Moving for the door he beckons me with and I grudgingly get up, body stiff. Out back he pours half over his torso, lets it run down his body and drip to the ground. He then offers it to me. I strip off my things without a second thought, letting him dump the rest over my chest and arms. It’s not the best but dilutes what bothers me the most.

“You do this before?” he asks while I’m rubbing at my arms, freezing. When I glance up he adds, “You know, with those two?”

Does he mean kill someone before? I don’t know why he’s beating around the bush, don’t even know what he did tonight, don’t want to ask. Shaking off a leg I give a curt nod. “Ye.”

I don’t offer where or when, don’t see a need to. He’s read my files.

He pours the last droplets out, tossing the jug. “You’re good at it.”

I don’t think that’s something to be proud over. I don’t answer, heading back inside before he does. He follows several minutes later, cracking open a couple glow lights once he scrounges them from his bag. At least now we’re not in the dark.

“I’ll get you clothes,” he awkwardly mumbles, voice strained. I watch him walk about, drying off and slipping on new things. He’s clearly looking for something more to say but can’t.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, shaking my head. I don’t want him leaving me here alone. “It can wait.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, back turned and emptying the bag on a counter. “A dirty tank and jeans. Not conspicuous at all.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to bring extra,” I argue, prickling over his tone. He does the same with me.

“I brought extra,” he snaps. “It’s just…in the van.”

I watch his back. If the others have our things then why does he need to get anything else? “When will they be here?”

Hands resting on the counter Maks exhales loudly. He’s quiet a moment before resuming sifting through his things. “They’re not coming.”

Oh. I let that sink in, confused. “Then…so when are we meeting up?”

“Never,” he curtly answers before abruptly shoving away and disappearing to another part of the shop, somewhere I can’t see but can definitely hear him banging on pieces of equipment. I stay where I am, sure if I ask I’m not going to get any kind of satisfactory answer. The rest of his team isn’t meeting us here, or apparently anywhere else. Does this only apply to while I’m still with him? The way he looked at me earlier, as if I wasn’t supposed to be hurt… It occurs to me he may have had different plans than what his team did, and even those plans weren’t quite concrete until the end.

“I’m supposed to be dead right now,” I guess, shoving my knees together. His shuffling about doesn’t cease from around the corner.

“Ye.”

“But I’m not,” I point out, to which he gives the same answer. It makes me feel a bit sick as I recognize what was supposed to happen. “You weren’t supposed to bring me back.”

His silence indicates I’m right. Getting up I pick through the shop until I find him clear across on the wall furthest from the door, crouching over an old file cabinet. He won’t look at me, which somehow pisses me off. Resting both hands on my hips I aggravate my bruised lip by chewing on it, testily looking him over.

“The fuck is this, then?” I demand, voice low, barely audible. “What else do you need from me?”

“Nothing,” he quickly answers, gaze intent on whatever he’s messing with. That’s not a good enough answer.

“Then what do you—?”

“I went in there for one person,” he interrupts in a hurry, jaw tight. “Not you. I’m not about to put you down like some goddamn dog.”

So he told his team he would kill me. It makes sense; destroy whatever evidence they can, get rid of someone who already betrayed them. I’d demand the same in their shoes. Even though I had my doubts it still doesn’t feel good knowing what he said was a lie. I think the only reason I’m alive is because he found out the truth.

Lining up my own version of events I have to assume he drugged me thinking it’d keep me down long enough for him to find Devin, kill him, and then do the same to me. It didn’t work out, of course, because I beat him to it.

I return to my post by the door without another word and work on my clothes. My top at least isn’t too bad but my jeans do have some blood on them. Still, I’m sure I can put up with it for a while. Once my boots are laced up I push out the door and back into the cool night air. Crunching through gravel I take a good look at the shop’s backyard, trying to settle my anger and wondering just how far I could get without him. Not very far, definitely not past the border, and then what? My state is looking for me, therefore _this_ state is looking for me, and I’m sure by now at least someone knows the majority of an office building downtown has been murdered, an office building I inhabited for several months and dealt with multiple people on their team.

What do I do now? That’s really something I should’ve thought over more prior to agreeing to leaving Hong Kong.

The backdoor bangs open, Maks hissing at me to come back. I pay him no mind because honestly there’s no reason to and also I’d rather not be near him when he was alright with killing me. For real, not just telling me so to intimidate me. Why I’m suddenly irate over that is something I can’t comprehend.

His boots stomp through the yard a beat later. “Edin—inside. Now.”

“No,” I refuse, whipping round to face him, arms crossing over my chest. “I’m fine out here.”

“It’s fucking cold,” he warns. When that doesn’t move me he adds, “Edin, we need to stay low. Get back inside.”

“From who?” I need to know. The state, I understand, but I’m starting to think he just abandoned his own team, and that’s…that’s not the best idea. Glowering, he doesn’t answer and shoves his hands into sweat pant pockets.

“Is it because you know it was her?” I goad, lip curling. “Is that why you didn’t do it? Hm? So you can—”

“Don’t talk about her,” he barks, looking past me. “I don’t—not yet. I don’t want to fucking think about that right now.”

“Then why am I here?” I exclaim, ready to hit him. He deserves it; he fucked both our plans up. “I don’t have anything else to give you. Nothing!”

Berating him at this point is useless so when he’s quiet I don’t continue, dropping my hands and shifting on my feet. I’d love to go back inside, it’s warm in there, but I’m stubborn and pissed and he caused this. Eventually he looks at his feet, taking a long breath.

“I wanted you alive,” he hollers, muttering a curse under his breath a second later. Slowly turning he makes a few paces, one hand rubbing over his neck. “Jesus. Sorry I didn’t say anything. I thought you knew.”

“You _drugged_ me,” I accuse, happy to bring that up. “You brought me to people who hate me. What am I supposed to think?”

“That I’d keep you safe!” he shouts back, volume last thing on his mind. Twisting back around he has me consider his agitated frame. “I’m good on my damn word.”

“Then make me believe it,” I snip, turning his words against him, his face instantly betraying I’m right. I am, I know I am. This part of his plan was improvised. He huffs, looks back to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I thought about it, told them I would, fucking had everything planned out but—I’m not fucking murdering you. That’s no what I came here for. That good enough?”

If it’s true, yes, but it’s still upsetting. I take a deep breath, remind myself everything’s upsetting right now. At least he did do like he said.

“Are you sure?” I ask, words tentative. The look he pulls says a lot and he beckons me forward, gaze pleading I do so. I gingerly step across the gravel, gaze fixed on his boots. One hand catches my waist and he draws me closer. Despite even breathing I can feel his pulse still fluttering wildly in his grip. He’s all kinds of riled up, too, at least for the moment.

“Wouldn’t have left you there,” he murmurs, other hand reaching around to touch the small of my back, protectively circling me. “Wouldn’t have in Bhutan, wouldn’t have killed you now. Can’t.”

My eyes roll involuntarily and I focus on his chest. “Could’ve told me.”

His head slowly shakes, reaching to tilt my chin. “You wouldn’t tell me anything.”

We watch each other before my gaze drops, guilt creeping up. He’s right. I wish he wasn’t but he is.

“I’ll be back,” he softly states, pulling away. “Gonna get you some clothes. _Please_ stay inside.”

I step with him. There’s no way he’s going anywhere without me. It’s one thing to leave him but if he goes…I’m paranoid he won’t return.

“I’m fine,” I insist, holding onto his shirt. “It’s fine.”

He starts arguing but gives up, sighing in defeat. We head for the door once more and he smoothly nudges me in first, quickly shutting it behind us. His grip stays on me, encouraging me to keep close while we walk several paces into the shop. Without a word he lifts the hem of my top, and I raise my arms when necessary, relieved to have it off.

“Sure you’re alright?” he wonders, fingers tracing down my sides, carefully smoothing over fresh bruising. After a moment’s hesitation I nod, then glance up at his worried brow. He really didn’t have a good plan for afterward.

“Are you?”

For once he doesn’t give his bullshit ‘don’t worry about it’ answer, mouth a thin line as he shrugs. His fingers keep finding new bruises, brow lowering in thought. Ducking, his lips brush over my cheek and I shiver, scooting closer, chest pressed against his.

“Could be better.” His whisper tickles my ear, forcing a small smile on my lips. He provides such good distractions. “But…I’m good. Relieved, I guess.”

“Sure it’s a good idea leaving them?” I wonder. He considers briefly, nose in my hair.

“Don’t care. I didn’t want back in their game anyway.”

“Their game?”

His shoulders tense. “I don’t enjoy doing this, baby. I’m just…good at it.”

I don’t know whether to believe him or not, accepting it for now. He is good at what he does, always has been. What else would he do?

Burying myself in his shirt I listen to his rapid heartbeat. Mine feels positively sluggish compared to his. He’s been like this since we left. Whether he enjoys it or not I know he gets a rush out of it. All tonight did was lower my nerves. Devin’s mutilated body flashes through my head but I shove it down. He didn’t care about Rey. I will _not_ care about him.

Tilting my jaw I kiss his cheek, moving to his mouth when it’s offered. I’m not the only one looking for distraction. Walking backward we hit a wall and he presses on me, gentler than usual but enough to keep me in place. His hands grasp my cheeks, tongue parting my lips, kiss quickly deepening. I can feel his arousal pulsing against me, one hand darting down to squeeze it through his sweats. He groans into my mouth, abandoning my face and beginning a feverish bid to touch every available part of me.

We don’t have to say anything, which is fine; we both understand what the other wants. Perhaps this is why he wanted to bring me, to find someone to share the after-burn with. I don’t care. I still want him.

Giving me more room he hurriedly works open my jeans and lowers them down with my panties, pulling them around my ankles while he slides to his knees as well. His arms clasp about my thighs and he presses a cheek to the apex of my hips, eyes shut, lost for a moment. I comb my fingers through his hair, watching him beneath lowered lids. Reaching back around he spreads my labia, admiring it a short moment before his tongue carefully parts my folds.

I love being alone with him. I don’t hold back, a soft moan of approval escaping my lips. It doubles when several wet digits bury themselves as well, deftly rubbing my inner walls. They vibrate hard, making me squirm, but he’s rewarded fairly easily. Tasting my slick he groans, fingers sliding out and rising back to full height to kiss me again. It always turns him on having me taste myself and I fervently suck on his fingers, then tongue, enjoying how his hands pull my legs apart.

At this point we do have to pause so I can kick off my boots and at least slide one leg from my pants but once they’re out of the way he hoists me up by the ass, legs hooking around his waist just like my arms circling his neck. This earns a hushed ‘good girl’ before I’m pinned to the wall, Maks taking a moment to free his cock. He strokes it, cheek rubbing on mine at the same time. I grow impatient, peppering exposed skin with wet kisses, likely distracting him from his goal but I don’t care. I need to do something to keep my mind occupied.

“Fuck me,” I gasp on his hot flesh, thighs squeezing him. The taunting rumble rising from his chest encourages me, makes me glance up to his half-there gaze, lust mirroring my own. “Maks, fuck me. Please.”

“Baby,” he coos, a beautifully secretive grin developing. He kisses me hard, groaning when I whine. His cock slips against my lower lips, teasing me. “You want my cock?”

“Mhmm. Please.”

“Want me to fuck your tight little pussy, baby?”

My stomach flutters with anticipation and I hold on tighter. “Yes, yes, _yes_.”

“You wanna come on it?” he asks, voice low, dark, mesmerizing. I love it, nodding into his shoulder, keening.

“ _Yes_.”

His gentle laugh cools my skin, holds me up a bit higher. “You want it? Act like it, baby.”

I do, whines overpowering my breath until he slides his cock deep, stretching me full. It sets my nerves on fire, pleasure spreading from my core. Wasting no time he moves, gasps at the sensation. His hips roll on mine, carefulness abandoned in order to push as much of his cock in as he can. Each time he bottoms out a blissful spasm pulses from my insides. I let him go hard as he wants, desiring everything he has to offer and he has a lot. He pounds into me, balls slapping my ass, fingers digging into my buttocks for purchase. His breath is heavy on my neck between eager kisses, determined to envelope all of me. Soon all I can do is hang on, easily overwhelmed by so much stimulation at once.

He’s getting close, cock swelling, tightening. Murmuring in my ear he tells me how good I feel, how hard I make him, and how much he’d like to keep fucking me. This is accompanied between gentle nips, hands roaming over me like he truly can’t get enough and of course his cock slows down, pounding into me but at a much more deliberate pace. It rubs up right along the best spots, top perfectly teasing my exposed clit.

Baring down he picks up his pace, sending heat spilling from my middle, washing over my body in quick bursts of euphoria. I wrap my leg around him tighter, crying into his collar while everything shatters within me.

“Good girl,” he raggedly praises between breaths, smothering me in kisses. “Good fucking girl.”

I almost want to tell him the same when he comes, gasping and holding himself deep, grip near crushing for several long moments. Clinging to him I let him hold me against the wall, both of us subtly quivering. The building is suddenly so quiet without our needy panting.

Drawing back a centimeter or two he takes in my flushed face, stroking my hair while he recovers. I can barely keep my eyes open, lips parted in a semi-permanent pout. He ducks down to kiss them, tongue running over the sensitive lower half. I can’t help uttering a final moan, head burying in his shoulder. He pulls me from the wall and holds me to him, hand smoothing over my crown and steadily shuffling away.

Now my nerves are shot, a true calm pulling over my skin like a warm blanket. Hearing my content sigh he encourages the feeling, lowering me down to the only chair in the building, crouching and carefully examining me once more.

“Did good, baby,” he whispers, giving my thighs a squeeze. “Real good.”

I don’t want clarification. In a daze I watch him pull off his shirt. It’s settled over me and then he rises, looking around for something to wipe himself off with. The act makes me smile, always enjoying his more mundane movements.

“I had to do it,” I softly inform him, head rolling back, eyes finally shuttering. “I’m sorry.”

He goes quiet, padding about. Soon enough his lips ghost over my forehead, steps thudding away. “Don’t worry about it, baby. Hang tight. I’m gonna get you something warmer to wear.”

This time I don’t argue, the wonderful feelings vibrating through my veins too good to let go. If I do I know where my thoughts will go, and I don’t want to face my actions yet.


	57. LVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end :)
> 
> Honestly there's been a hole in my heart since I finished this. It's difficult not thinking about my babes, but I'm happy with it. I stuck with it, this is my first time writing like, hardcore smut, and I'm incredibly happy with how it turned out. Anyway, thanks for going on the journey with me, I really appreciate it :)
> 
> "The greatest view, straight to my chest, is you, baby."

Tuesday, March 25th, 2059, Sofia.

The sun’s pushing over Sofia’s horizon, it’s easterly winds sending low clouds speeding across the pinkish sky. I pull a hood over my hair to ward off the chill, one leg tucked beneath the other on the roof’s edge. So much should be on my mind, the past day a whirl of adrenaline and nerves. In this moment however I’m at peace, have been for a few hours, the realization of what we’ve done accepted. There’s nothing left to think about, paranoia dead within my heart.

If we should be hunted down today I’ll bear the consequences. I’ve accomplished the only thing that mattered.

We still lost, I still left, and Rey’s still gone. These things will never change, but I feel lighter, relieved.

The ladder to the roof squeaks behind me, heavy footsteps following. Maks pauses at my right, quietly scanning the far off city before lowering next to me. He’s said little to me since we he returned earlier with clothes, mind consumed with things he doesn’t want to talk about. I think…Rey’s role in their downfall has made him doubt himself.

The shop he found was located in a small suburb just outside Sofia. We spent the rest of the night huddled in the back of the shop tending to various wounds, expecting to hear sirens but they never occurred. Unable to sleep I finally came up to the roof, needing time to let my thoughts settle.

Horns from a nearby intersection drift our way, the morning commute just beginning. Maks takes a deep breath, clearly wanting to say something. I look down at my lap, give him time to think.

“The last time I was here,” he softly remarks, “we had control of it. Majority of it was wreckage.”

Looking at it’s distant silhouette now it’s almost like the war never happened. My gaze cautiously takes him in from my peripheral. Unlike me a million thoughts weigh heavily upon him, obvious in his pained expression. Even sex couldn’t get them off his mind.

I jab a tentative finger to the east. “The prison they took me to…I remember it was somewhere over there.”

We grow quiet once more. Sofia brightens by the minute, shiny new construction glittering under the sun.

“When…when did you know it was her?” he finally asks, voice hushed, braced for more bad news. I smirk bitterly.

“The very last second, when we had to leave.”

He nods, growing a bit sick. “And this Devin…”

“Used her,” I answer, shifting uncomfortably. “She figured it out, only reason she even told me. That’s…why I made her go. Didn’t want her getting hurt.”

One more prison didn’t matter to me. One more interrogation, one more attempt to make me talk. I’d made myself handle it because I knew I could, had proof of it. Rey didn’t need that experience.

Maks’ breathing becomes heavy and he looks away. I can’t tell what he’s thinking but I know he’s hurting. He didn’t get the closure he thought he would. The vengeance he needed. I feel sorry for him, truly, but I needed it more.

Eventually he grunts, drawing a knee up and leaning back on one hand. “No wonder she wanted to find you so bad. Fucking liars, both of you.”

The thought makes me smile faintly, gaze lowering to my lap again. I always thought I was the sneaky one but…turns out it’d rubbed off on her, too. Or perhaps she rubbed off on me. I’m not sure anymore. “Ye. Ye, we were.”

A fire engine roars down the street below us, it’s siren luckily absent. In that moment Maks subtly scoots closer, gaze calmly looking me over. He’s still unreadable, holding in what he can. The game never stops for him.

“Edin.”

I glance up at him. “Hm?”

“Don’t lie to me again,” he softly requests, lids lowered. “Please. You’re all I have left from…home.”

That’s not a real reason but I get what he means. My back hunches tiredly. I can’t go back to my home now, don’t even know how to get out of here without his help. I’m at his mercy yet again but it feels different this time. There are a dozen acts behind us I’d rather never speak of, let alone think about, but him…I differentiate him from these so easily, just like before. I get his pain.

It’s the same as mine.

I offer a slight nod, though we both know I likely will. Self preservation is a hard habit to break. I’ll try my best.

We sit side by side, the sun blinding when it makes it’s full appearance. It’s warm though, my new dark clothes absorbing the heat. I eventually lower my hood, hair loose on the wind.

“Maks?”

He starts, distracted. “Ye?”

I take a deep breath, shove both hands in my pockets. It sounds silly in my head yet I’m compelled to tell him, know he could’ve easily done the opposite. “Thank you for believing her.”

He pulls a face, trying to hide a smirk. Finally he offers a real, if small, smile.

“Would’ve gone after you anyway, baby. You hurt my feelings, leaving like that.”

I bite my lip, try to keep it together. I believe him.

Leaning against him my head rests on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to my crown. Together we’re treated to one of the better views Sofia has to offer, the sun rising higher and higher, illuminating the city’s many faraway skyscrapers. I feel lucky to even have it, to have him. None of this should have ever happened but…I always knew he’d find me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *credits roll and 'The Greatest View' by Flume plays, you can't make me believe otherwise*
> 
> There is an epilogue but it won't be posted here, I apologize but I gotta keep some of it for myself :)


End file.
